


Behind Your Eyes

by The__Lady__Excalibur



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship, Glader Slang, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Post-The Death Cure, Post-The Maze Runner, Pre-The Maze Runner, Recovery, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, The Maze Runner - Freeform, frame story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 57
Words: 156,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The__Lady__Excalibur/pseuds/The__Lady__Excalibur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was the Glade like before Thomas came up in the Box? No one ever told Thomas what happened before. And before, there was a girl. A girl named Jo, who changed life in the Glade, especially for Newt, but died before there was a chance to escape. But what if there was even more to the Maze than anyone thought?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trying not to Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This fanfic is to give Newt an eventual happy ending. I couldn't stand what happened in TDC, so this will 'fix' things for him, and for Jo. :) Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

I shot up suddenly out of bed, as if from a horrible nightmare.

No, not a bed.

_Jolt._

_Crash._

Where was I?

Beneath me was a hard metal floor, and around me was total darkness. Darkness and loud nosies, and whatever I was in—a crate?—wouldn’t stop moving. I was sweaty and shaking in fear.

 _Bang_. “Somebody help me!” I screamed. Could anyone hear me? “Please!” I was thrown from the floor to the wall. I tried to stand, but as soon as I was upright, I was thrown backwards, onto some box. I shrieked when something inside it started clucking.

Chickens? Why was I in a dark crate with chickens?

I froze. What was I doing here at all? Where was I, how did I get here? I couldn’t remember. I opened my mouth to yell, to scream for help, but I felt swelling in my throat, almost as if the fear had overtaken my entire body.

Oh my gosh, I really couldn’t remember. 

What had just happened? What had I done before I woke up? 

What…What was my name?

All these answerless questions swarmed my confused mind when an extra forceful jolt threw me into another wall. I heard a scrape and creak, and then a whoosh, and something sharp tore open my left arm.

Pain flooded my body, and suddenly I could speak again. “Ah!” I shrieked. I used my other hand to grab whatever had cut into my arm—a shovel—and threw it far away from me. I felt warm blood ooze from the cut, and my head started to spin.

Not good. Not good at all.

I felt around, blind in the darkness, and tried opening the other boxes, searching for any medical supplies, but they were all taped shut. No one was here to help me. I couldn’t bleed out. I needed to fix this up.

I used my good arm's hand to tear my sleeve, making a makeshift bandage. I used the same hand and my teeth to pull it tight. Pain lanced up my arm, and a small whine escaped my lips. I needed to forget the pain and apply pressure. Yes, pressure. But forgetting the pain was not a realistic idea. I pressed down hard on the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding, and wondered again why the heck someone would place a shovel with its blade standing up. I mean, who does that? 

The crate kept trying to throw me around. I grabbed onto the sides in an attempt to steady myself, but I just kept being jolted away. I screamed in desperation, wishing I could get out of the shaky darkness.

What was my name? I couldn’t remember…how could I not remember my own name? “Come on!” I yelled. “Think! You have to have a name!”

_Jolt._

_Crash._

“Come on, Jo, think!” I froze. “Ah, there now, that wasn’t so hard,” I smiled. “Jo. Joan, ah that’s it! Sure, why not?” I shook my head. “Joan, stop talking to yourself.” An especially forceful jolt threw me against the metal walls, and I groaned. “What did I do to deserve this?” I shouted to anyone who would listen.

Who put me here? Why couldn’t I remember? Where the heck was I? 

There, above me, the ceiling! Oh shoot, this crate wasn’t slowing down, I was going to hit! No, no, no, don’t crash, don’t—

A loud buzz made me cover my ears as the crate came to a sudden halt, just a few feet before crashing. Then, the ceiling split down the center and moved apart to reveal a blinding white-blue light. At first, I couldn’t see a thing. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw a circle of silhouettes against a bright sky, and all those silhouettes were talking.

“Poor shank.”

“Doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

“Do you see my shovel? Asked the Creators for a good one.”

“Shuck your shovel, Zart, I wanna see the newbie.”

“Slim it, shanks. He’s just as scared as you were, now be quiet while I try to calm him down.”

“Sure Nick, go mommy the greenbean.”

I saw one figure jump down into the crate with me, squinting in the dark. I was startled, frightened even, and quickly scurried away to the corner. I caught a glimpse of the bloody shovel and snatched it up, holding it in front of me as a weapon.

“Woah, woah, kid,” the figure—Nick?—said, holding his hands up. “I know you’re scared and confused right now, but let’s just get you outta this box and we can talk, good that?”

It was a boy. Teenage, probably seventeen at most, tall, light brown hair, curly, kind face. Blue eyes. He walked towards me slowly, trying not to startle me. I appreciated that. I also appreciated his calming tones.

 _Be calm, Jo,_ I told myself. _Panicking won’t help. Don’t be rash._

“I’m Nick. Do you remember…oh, shuck. No way. Shuck, shuck, shuck. Oh _really_ shuck. You’re bleeding.”

Aw, how cute, he was concerned. Maybe he really didn’t mean me any harm. He _was_ being very nice, considering I was pointing a shovel at him. Slowly, I put it down and looked at my bandaged arm. “Not really, not anymore. Um, why am I down here?”

He stared at me. “You’re a girl,” he murmured in disbelief. 

I frowned. “Is that bad?”

He rubbed his nose. “No, just different. We haven’t gotten a girl before.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean, you haven’t _gotten a girl before_?”

“Nick, what’s the problemo? Greenie klunk his pants or something?” a voice called from above.

“Slim it!” Nick shouted up. “Kid, I’ll explain to you what I can, but we need to get you outta this box. Get your arm looked at. Can you just try to trust me?”

“Where do you plan on taking me?” I demanded.

He sighed. “I’ll show you. Trust me? Won’t let any of the shanks up there hurt you, promise.” Shank? What the heck did that mean?

I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going anywhere stuck in this crate. I needed disinfectant and new bandages.

Did I have a choice? “I’ll hold you to it,” I muttered. He offered his arm and I took it, careful to avoid letting my hurt arm touch anything. 

“Move aside, shanks!” Nick shouted up. He walked me to the edge of the box, then offered me his hand. “I’ll lift you up?” I nodded, and he easily lifted me up out of the crate and onto soft, green grass. Immediately, I was surrounded by the silhouettes.

They were teenage boys.

“Is that—?”

“No way.”

“I call her!”

“Shut up, I said I called any girl that showed up.”

“Is that blood? Is she okay?”

“Is she hot?”

“Does it matter? It’s a shuck girl!”

“Hey, ya shanks,” Nick thundered, “Slim it! Any of you touch her, you get to spend the night with the Grievers.” They all fell quiet. “This girl’s our new sister, and if you try anything with her, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“You heard the man,” a dark-skinned boy said. He stood next to me, arms crossed over his chest. Tall, broad-shouldered, short dark hair. He was authoritative, but I sensed that Nick was the leader around here. “You don’t want to see Nick’s angry big brother face. Back to work!”

As the small crowd dissipated, muttering, I got a look around me.

Aw man. What was this place?

I was in a large clearing, the size of a couple football fields, surrounded by towering stone walls. There were four breaks in the walls, opening into some exterior darkness. The walls had ivy, but not all the way to the top. There were two patches of trees, forests, sort of, a place for some farm animals, gardens, a tall, rickety lookout-type thing, and a few buildings. 

 _Where was I?_ I was awed by the sheer size of the place, but even more so by the way it seemed to trap us.

I looked at my stinging arm. My shirt was a dark green with three-quarter length sleeves, or had been before I tore one. I was wearing brown pants tucked into dark brown boots, my hair was down—it was a light brown—and reached to about my waist.

Nick, as was his name, had hoisted himself up and was now standing next to me, near the edge of the crate. A few boys were taking the boxes and supplies out of it, muttering and casting me odd glances as they went. “Hey Clint, you wanna take a look at this?”

A black-haired, shorter-than-average boy strode up, taking a small backpack off his shoulders. “What the shuck did you do?” he asked me, nodding at my arm.

I was frustrated. “Um, ya, whose brilliant idea was it to stand a shovel with its blade upright? Stupid thing fell over, split my arm open.”

Nick chuckled. “Zart, I think they sent up your shovel,” he told a blond-haired boy, who was in the crate. 

“It’s got blood all over it!”

I snorted. “So sorry. If I wasn't so concerned with trying to not bleed out, I would have cleaned it off.”

Clint smiled next to me. “Lemme see your arm, greenbean.” 

I gave it to him, furrowing my brows, asking, “Did you just call me a _green bean_?” emphasizing each odd word.

He shrugged. “Newbie. Greenie. Green bean.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not a vegetable.”

“No,” Nick agreed, “you most certainly are not, kiddo.”

“She-bean, then,” Clint corrected. He nodded approvingly at my makeshift bandage. “Nice job. Got it to stop bleeding.” 

“Might need another shirt,” I pointed out. “Got any?”

“Probably,” Nick assured me. 

“Could be a good med-jack,” Clint told him. 

Nick nodded. “Well, kid, first off, welcome to the Glade.”

I looked around the large area. “The Glade? That’s what you call this place?”

He nodded. “Here’s the deal. One question at a time, go slow, I’ll answer what I can.”

Fair deal. “Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Creators. Shanks who sent us here, they swiped our memories or something. Only thing any of us remember when we come out of the Box is our names.”

I nodded. Great. No memories. Still, I had my name. “Joan. Jo,” I told him.

He held out his hand. I shook it. “Nice grip, Jo. Could be a Builder.”

“You all came up in there?” I motioned to the crate—the Box.

“Most of us. Some, we all woke up here at the start—that’s me included—then we got a new boy each month. Been about a year now, but it seems much longer. Got about thirty of us in all.”

“Thirty boys? How many girls?”

“Like I said, kiddo, we haven’t had a girl show up here before. You're the first.”

I grew uneasy. “Only girl?” I groaned. “ _Thirty_ boys?” This was not good.

“Calm, kiddo. No one’s gonna touch you.” I remembered his threat from earlier. Yes, I could trust Nick. He was good.

“Why are we here?”

“No idea. But we are, and we’ve made a life here, and we have a system.”

I pointed to the gaps in the walls. “What’s out there?”

He shook his head. “The Maze. Bad place. Dangerous. Don’t go out there, it’s rule.”

“If you don’t go out there, how do you know what it is?”

“We have Runners. Gladers who run the Maze during the day, map it, try to find a way out.”

“A way out?” My head was hurting.

“All done,” Clint declared. “Can she try working with me her first day?” he asked Nick. 

Nick stood. “Ya, sure. Kid, enough questions for now. Just trust me, it’s a lot to take in. Know that you’re safe within these walls.”

I stood too. “Okay,” I said, frowning, “Sure. What choice do I have?”

“Good that, smart kid aren’t ya? You don’t have a choice. None of us do.”

Clint waved goodbye and left, heading for one of the larger buildings. 

He said something to the dark-skinned boy about unloading. “This’s Alby. My second-in-command. I’m not available, you come to him. He’s a good shank.” I shook Alby’s hand. “Alight then, kid,” Nick said, “Come on, let’s go get you something to eat.”  
As if on cue, my stomach growled loudly. “Sounds good,” I replied.

“Follow me. I know the best place in town,” he chuckled, as if it were the most hilarious thing in the world. Then again, it was probably the only place in the Glade, so…

He led me to another building, explaining, “We are mostly self-sufficient here. Creators send up supplies each week, newbie each month. We have electricity, running water, and basically anything else we need. Toilets there,” he pointed, “showers there,” he pointed again. He stopped walking. “Uh, we’re gonna have to figure out some other situation for you. Our showers are open, but I don’t think you’ll be wanting that.”

I raised my brows. “No. Definitely not.”

He rubbed his nose. “I’ll have Gally start building you your own showers and bathroom.”

“Gally?”

“He’s over there,” Nick pointed near the forest, where a group of boys was hammering, sawing, and measuring wood. “Keeper of the Builders.”

“Keeper?”

“Leader, man-in-charge, boss, whatever.”

We continued on. “Here’s where we eat, and here’s Frypan, our five-star chef. Fry, got any food for the newbie here?”

Someone was named Frypan? Like, after an actual _pan?_ Must’ve been a nickname. 

We entered in the low-ceilinged building. Inside there were tables, chairs, and benches, and a counter behind which stood a big dark-skinned boy with an apron. A door way led to what must have been the kitchen.

“Sure thang, Nick—whoa.”

I grimaced, self-conscious. 

“Man, is that a chick?” the cook asked, not believing his eyes. 

“Uh, hi, I’m Jo,” I smiled awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yup, got first girl today. Do me a favor, help me keep an eye on her? Don’t want any of the boys messing with her.”

“You got it, boss. Here ya go, sista, freshly made sandwich, on the house,” he winked. Immediately I felt more comfortable. Frypan was funny, I was sure he’d make a good friend. 

“Thanks, Fry, Alright kiddo, you get to munching while I try to clear up some things.” We sat at one of the tables, there were about six of them in here, with bench seats, and I started eating. Frypan’s sandwich was amazing. Maybe it was because I was extra hungry, or maybe because I had no memories, but I was sure nothing had ever tasted so good.

“We got three rules. One, don’t go into the Maze. Hear me? Too dangerous, we can’t risk losing any Gladers. We’ve lost a lot already, so unless you’re a Runner, which you’re not and you’re not gonna be, do not go past those walls. Get me?”

I nodded quickly. Sure, no Maze. I’d probably get lost anyways, and I hated feeling lost.

“Second, do your part to help out. We have a system, we have order. See, Order is what keeps us alive and happy. Otherwise we’d be in chaos and be losing our minds, wondering what the shuck we’re doing in here. Runners map a way out, we in here make sure there’s a place to call home. Got that kiddo? Order. Something happens, we need truth and we need information. Order. Finally,” he stared me in the eyes, “Don’t harm another Glader. Like I said, we can’t afford to lose anyone. Don’t fight or you’ll be punished. If someone attacks you, whatever reason, you come to me, you come to Alby, you come to a Keeper. Got that? No one hurts you.”

I nodded again. I was almost finished with my sandwich. “What am I helping with?”

“Tomorrow we’ll start you out with a job. Take a week to try each one, see what you’re good at. End of week, Keepers have a Gathering, a meeting that is, decide what job you get.”

“What ones are there?”

“Med-jack—doctors, basically, like Clint—Runner—no, can’t risk you—Slicer, works with animals, Builder, builds stuff, Bricknicks, repairs, Slopper, cleans stuff, Bagger, acts as guards and deals with the dead, Track-hoes, gardeners. Yup.”

I finished my lunch and dusted the crumbs away. “Okay, so…we really don’t know why we’re here?”

“Nope. No good trying to find out. Just get into the rhythm.”

Be calm, Jo, panicking will do no good. “Okay. Sure.”

“Come on, I’ll give you the rest of the Tour.” He brought me around the Glade, pointing out the gardens, the forest, the dead-heads, which creeped me out a bit, the Blood House, which made me wince, thinking of the slaughtered animals—I mean, sure we had to eat, but I wondered if the boys knew how to painlessly kill a pig or chicken (did I?)—, and the Homestead, the two-story makeshift building that had bedrooms and the Med-Jack hut. It was kinda ramshackle, but had doors and solid stairs. He took me upstairs and pointed out where Clint worked, then showed me a hallway. 

“I’ll have you sleep in one of these rooms,” he told me. “Lot of the boys like sleeping outside, but Stephen’s room’ll be open soon. He’s gonna sleep in a hammock, so you can take his room. Right now, though, it’s a mess, he got himself sick few days ago, been bedridden. He’s a Runner. Usually he's not here, but like I said, been bedridden. We’ll finish moving his stuff tomorrow, you can sleep in Newt’s room tonight.” He showed me another room, across from his, he said, that had two mattresses. “Usually good with Newbies…mm. You’re a girl.”

Why was he pointing this out again? 

“Ya know what? I’ll bunk with Newt tonight, you can have my room.”

Now I felt guilty. “Really, I don’t want to steal your room. I, um…is Newt a good guy?”

He snorted. “Newt’s the best one of us here, you won’t have to worry about him.”

“Then…I mean, maybe it’s be better if I had someone trustworthy with me. Kinda a guard, ya know?” I was a bit uneasy, but if I felt uncomfortable, at least Nick was right across the hall. “I can just sleep in there.”

He eyed me, trying to decide if I was really okay with my suggestion. “You get nervous, don’t be afraid to wake him or me up. Got that kiddo?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

He looked hard at me. “Ya know, she-bean, apart from just oddly saying ‘okay’ to everything, you’ve been real cool about this all. Calm. You good? Not about to start bawling on me are you?”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m fine. I mean, won’t do any good to panic, right?”

“Good that,” he whistled. “I hope we get more girls. Much easier to give Tours to, not drowning me with dumb questions or trying to sprint outta the Glade into the shuck Maze.”

I supposed that was a thank-you. 

“Right then, kiddo, one last thing.”

He led me through the forest again, right up to the wall. I was puzzled, then terrified when he pulled out a knife.

I shrieked away from him.

“Whoa, kiddo, calm down I’m not gonna slit ya!” He held out a hand, as if to calm me. He then offered me the handle. “This wall, here,” I looked at the wall, “this is where we carve our names.” 

He was right. The wall in front of me had names carved into the stone. A lot of names were crossed off, and I asked why. “Time’s have been tough,” he explained mournfully. “When we first got here, it was real bad. Lot of boys couldn’t handle it, or got stuck in the Maze. Been two leaders before me. I was one of the first Gladers. I’ve seen a lot of names crossed off, and I don’t want watch the Keepers cross off any more.”

I took the knife. 

“You’re one of us now, kiddo. This Glade? This is all we got.”

I carved my name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names come from the name wall from TMR movie, or TMR database (trying to keep this basically canon—it'll make sense later). Boys are named after scientists, as with the books.
> 
> Girl(s) named after religious figures.
> 
> Jo (Joan): Joan of Arc


	2. Something Behind His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we meet Newt! :) And so it begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

Nick led me back to the Box, where some of the boys were unpacking the new supplies. I wanted to see if the ‘Creators’ sent me other clothes, because I didn’t really want to wear this torn, bloody shirt anymore. Alby directed us to a small box, and in it I found more shirts, another pair of pants, and some shorts. Folded underneath were more underwear and another bra, and then a small pink bag. I took out its contents one by one, inspecting each gift with upmost care. 

First, there was a hairbrush and hair ties. Simple enough, but very necessary. Then came a small mirror. I used it to see my eyes, which were a gray-green, a few shades lighter than my shirt. Then, there was a small bottle of pills. I read the print carefully, then let out a whoop of joy. 

“What is it, kid?” Nick asked. He was sorting through some of the boxes with Alby. 

I blushed. “Um, just some stuff the Creators sent me.”

“Like what?”

“Just stuff.”

He scooted over to me. “Come on now, you can’t get all excited and not tell us what for.”

“Suit yourself,” I giggled, then handed him the bottle. 

“One pill a week,” he read the directions, “female consumption only, works to temporarily halt menstruation cycles…oh. Right. Gotcha, ya remind me not to pry into the contents of that bag again,” he groaned. 

I giggled again and put the bottle back in the bag. Freedom. No periods. Life in the Glade just got a little bit better, knowing that I wouldn’t have to deal with the monthly blood. I had no memories, but I knew that periods sucked. “Pink bag for me, let’s not have any of the boys getting into it.”

“Good that.”

As I was gathering my belongings in my box and preparing to haul it up to Newt’s room, I saw a couple boys run through the Doors, into the Glade from the Maze. 

Runners, I remembered. They had harnesses across their chests with packs on their backs, and were sweating from their exercise. The slight breeze in the Glade ruffled the grass at their feet as they came towards us.

One was Asian, had a mop of black hair that I couldn’t help suspect was styled, and the other was blonde, a bit taller than the other, with broad shoulders and a square jaw.  Both looked around fifteen, same as what I suspected my age was.

“Hey, Nicky boy, Newbie come in?” the blonde one asked. He had an odd accent that I recognized but couldn’t place. Right as he looked over, I stumbled over a pile of wood and tumbled to the ground, my box of clothes falling on top of me.

“Right there,” Nick nodded to me. “Bit clumsy, that one. Got all bloody from Zart’s shovel, wasn’t even out of the Box.”

“Bloody hell, shank, causing trouble while still in the Box?” the accented one laughed. “Let me help you there, greenie—” He moved to lift the box up, but at the same time, I tried to roll it off, and I ended up tripping him. He landed sprawled across my now box-free torso, and my ankles got all tangled up in his long legs. 

“I’m sorry!” I quickly apologized. His head snapped up in surprise. 

“Bloody hell, we have a girl?” the blonde asked, eyes wide. Something about him…I felt like there was something I needed to tell him, but I couldn’t remember what. Something about his eyes, his brown eyes, made me almost remember something. 

“Hello. I’m Jo,” I introduced sheepishly. He had one arm on either side of me, trying to support himself, and his face was just inches from mine. He was practically lying on top of me, causing me to blush feverishly. “Uh, really sorry.”

“No way,” the Asian one muttered. “No shucking way.”

“Um…yeah, I’m a girl. Jo,” I repeated. The blonde shook out of his stupor and got to his feet. Once standing, he reached down his hand, and I took it.“Name’s Newt.” I shook his hand. “Welcome to the Glade, love. How’re you holding up?”

“Fine so far,” I shrugged, then shook the other boy’s hand. 

“Minho,” he told me. “Really, your name is Joe? And Zart’s shovel?”

I grimaced. “Joan. I like Jo more, and yeah, it was a shovel. Fell on me.”

Minho grinned wildly. “Ha! Man, Zart must’ve been mad. Hates when blood gets on his tools.” He said it like it was a normal occurrence, and I made a mental note to be careful when gardening. 

“Newt, I’m gonna give her Stephen’s room once he’s outta there, is she good with you till that’s ready?” Nick asked.

Newt raised his brows. “You have to ask? Nicky boy, my word as a Keeper, she’s safe with me. She’ll start her new life tomorrow with her honor intact, swear it.”

I blushed again. “What a gentleman.”

He gave me a mock bow. “My dear lady, I will gladly escort you to your room.” With a flourish, he scooped up my box and started for the Homestead. “Sorry if I smell, I’ll take a shower soon as you’re settled in.”

“I can carry it,” I protested, jogging to catch up with him. He was tall, and had long strides. I had long strides, but I was short, so it didn’t do me much good. “I’m not pathetic you know.”

“Never said you were, love,” he replied. “Gonna take on Gally at the Bonfire tonight?”

I was confused. “What Bonfire?”

He rolled his eyes. “The bloody bonfire, when a newbie comes, we celebrate. That’s you, that’s tonight. Might want to stay away from Gally’s drink though, it’s a bit of an acquired taste, and I’m pretty sure it’s got some sort of alcohol. With all us boys, you may want to keep your head clear.”

We were at the Homestead. I opened the door for him, then followed him up the stairs. “Thanks for the advice. And for letting me share your room.”

He nodded. “Here we go, love, settled in. Now, I’m gonna go take a shower and get real nice and pretty for the celebration.” He smiled cheekily and left, leaving me to unpack.

“Shower would be good,” I muttered. Maybe I could get Newt to stand guard while I rinsed off. 

I followed him.

**—**

I waited outside the showers with a new shirt in hand. Minho came out before Newt did. “Hey, sweetheart, lookin’ for a show?” he teased, eyebrows wagging.

I laughed. He was just joking. “Waiting my turn,” I replied. “Don’t wanna barge in on anyone.”

“That’d be awkward,” he agreed. “Newt’ll stand guard if you want him to.”

I nodded. “Was hoping so.”

Right then, Newt came out the door, his hair damp. “What am I doing?” he asked the pair of us.

“Um, could you, ya know, make sure no one walks in on me?” I asked, nodding at the showers.

“Sure, love, go on in.” He took my place on the grass, and I quickly slipped through the door. 

“Thanks, Newt!”

Inside, the first thing that came to my mind was _locker room._ There was a row of sinks and a few benches to put towels and clothes on. Through a doorless doorway were the showers, with three shower heads against the wall. I quickly pulled a towel over to the bench, then undressed, keeping an eye on the door, even though I knew Newt was guarding it. A girl couldn’t be too careful. I then slipped into the shower room.

The water was warm. I sighed in relief when it fell on my skin, rinsing away the day’s grime. Showers were good. At least the Creators sent up running water.

Unfortunately, the shampoo smelt like Men’s shampoo, but hey, it got me clean. I tried to hurry, not wanting to keep Newt waiting too long, but the water just felt so good. So refreshing. 

As soon as I was clean and redressed, I met Newt outside. “Thank you, Newt.”

He smiled. “You got it, love. Now, if I’m thinking right, Nicky’s gonna want you to see something before the bonfire starts.”

“What is that?”

“Come on, we’ll meet him over there.” He began jogging in the direction of the opening to the Maze, and I followed, albeit confusedly. 

“Newt where are we going?”

“Come on, love, almost there,” he assured me. Nick was waiting for us in front of the opening. 

“Good. You’re here.”

“What for?” I panted. Newt was fast, even if he was jogging. 

“Just want you to see this, kiddo,” Nick said. He pointed at the opening. “I want you to understand why you don’t go in the Maze after dark. See, every morning, these doors open, and every night, they close.”

As if on cue, there was a malevolent wind that blew through the Maze tunnels, making me shiver, followed by a loud rumble. The ground started shaking, and then the walls on either side of the opening began to move. 

I shrieked. The walls were _moving_.

“Hey, love, calm down, it’s normal,” Newt assured me, his hand on my shoulder. “It’s a good thing. They protect us from the creatures that roam the Maze—We call them Grievers.”

“What the hell?” I shrieked. Could this place get worse? “You mean there are freaking monsters out there?” I looked wide-eyed at Newt. “And you _run_ out there? How are you sane?” I was half-terrified, half…trying not to be terrified. 

_Be calm. Be very calm. They’re alive, right? So are you. Everything’s fine._

“So long as we’re not in there at night, we’re safe.” I gaped at him. He shrugged, “I don’t think half of us are sane. But you get used to it. Least we haven't gone buggin’ mad yet,” he joked.

That’s when I saw it.

There, behind his eyes, I saw worry. I saw fear. He hid it well, but I caught a glimpse. That glimpse made me feel more comfortable, oddly enough. To know that a Runner, someone who went into the Maze everyday, someone who seemed so strong and sure, could be just like me. Could be human. Could be scared. 

But there was something else behind his eyes, too. Some unnamed glint. I didn’t know what it was. But I saw that it was stronger than the gleam of fear. I saw it when he looked at the Maze, and when he looked back at me, giving me a half-smile of reassurance. 

The walls—or, Doors—shuddered close with a loud boom.

“Come on, then, kiddo,” Nick said. “Can’t be late for your own party, now can you?” 

Oh, right. The bonfire.

 


	3. Fights, Friends, and an Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we move on to a bit more action! Jo's the Guest of Honor at the Bonfire, but what happens when Gally convinces her to wrestle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

I wasn’t sure what to think of the bonfire. The boys were wild, dancing around a huge fire with an animal skull set on a spear in the middle. I could’t help think that they were Peter Pan’s Lost Boys, and I was a cross between Tinkerbell, accepted like one of them, and Wendy, an outsider who just didn't fit in. I didn’t feel comfortable dancing with them, so I just munched on some food while sitting on a log by myself. Most Gladers came up and introduced themselves, but it was hard to remember all of their names. 

“Thirsty?” I turned around to see a tall blonde boy, with hair cut almost to his scalp. Gally. He was holding out a jar of greenish-yellow liquid and wearing a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “I don’t think so. I’ve been warned about your ‘secret recipe.’ I won’t be getting intoxicated, if that’s moonshine you’ve concocted.”

He chuckled and took a swig. “Probably a good idea.” He sat next to me, watching the boys dance. “These shanks can get pretty wild at these bonfires. It’s really our only time to celebrate. Tonight’s extra special, with you being the first she-bean and all.”

“Right. I’ve been informed.” I decided that Gally was pretty nice. “Don’t you wrestle them all or something?”

He laughed. “You wanna give it a go?”

“Mm,” I frowned, “Not sure about that, either. Think I’d just embarrass myself.”

“Naw, you can do it. Come on.” He stood, pulling my arm up with him. I tried to pull away, but he had a strong grip.

“Uh, Gally, no, really, I’m not good at that kind of stuff—” I protested. I was just going to make a fool of myself. “And, um, my arm, it’s not healed—”

“Come on, girlie, we’ll go easy on you.”

“Gally, no really,” I tried to pull away before anyone noticed his plan. 

“Jo, Gally’s trying to help,” I heard Nick say. He came up behind us, and Gally stopped pulling. Nick raised his brows. “Gal, you know, you can just _tell_ her why you want her to fight.” I frowned, puzzled. “What?” I asked. 

Gally sighed and scratched his head. “You see, girlie, these shanks here been talking. Making bets on if you can hold your own. Some of them, not so nice. Nick here,” he waved his hand at our leader, “thought it’d be a good idea for you to just shut them up. Ya know? That way they don’t want to come after you.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. That put things in a different light. 

“Can’t banish anyone for talking. Don’t want to lose Gladers.”

Great. I was causing problems and I hadn’t even been here an entire day. “Right, so…what, I fight and prove I can take care of myself?”

Gally grimaced. “Gonna have to, m’afraid. Unless you wanna be hiding behind me, or Nick, or Newt or whoever, you’re gonna have to show you mean business.”

“Fantastic,” I growled. “Gally, if you’re the wrestling champion or whatever, I think they’re gonna notice if you go easy.”

Gally smiled mischievously. “That’s why you won’t be fighting me.”

“Then who am I fighting?”

“I’m gonna show you a few moves, and you’re gonna wrestle whoever the shuck wants to.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “But…” I looked at Nick for support. “Nick?” I squeaked. “Is he serious? I can’t win against just anyone! For shuck’s sake you’re all boys! Do you realize that I’m, like, half the size of you all?”

He laughed at my adoption of Glader slang. “Well, kiddo, if it comes down to it, your gender is the best advantage you have.”

“How so?”

He shrugged innocently. “Well, we all can hurt real bad in a place you can’t. Just saying.”

Slowly, I grinned. “Nick, that’s playing kinda dirty…but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Alright, girlie, stand here,” Gally instructed, moving my feet next to him and taking a step back. The light from the bonfire only just illuminated us, but it was enough for him to show me what to do. “Now, if he comes at you from the side…”

—

“Alright, shanks! Listen up!” Gally shouted. “All you slintheads bad-mouthing Jo the Newbie, first she-bean, get in line. You wanna see what she’s made of, have a go. Right now, in the circle.” 

After a few tips, Gally’d pulled me over to the patch of sand where most of the Gladers were gathered in a circle. He’d brought me to the inside, where two boys had just finished wrestling. 

Oh, shuck, how’d I let them talk me into this? 

No, Jo, I told myself, this would prove to them that you were strong. You weren’t a pathetic damsel, you could take care of yourself. And you were _not_ to be messed with!

“Yeah, I’ll have a go,” a voice came. I tried not to look nervous as a black-haired Glader came forward. He had big arms, and looked strong. 

“Ah. Justin of the Builders.” Gally’s voice was hard, and I couldn’t help but immediately dislike this Justin. Not just because he volunteered, but because of the smug look on his face, as if he already won against me.

Shuck.

“Alright, girlie, rules are, he tries to push you out of the circle, and you don’t let him.”

Justin pushed up his sleeves. “Try to last more than five seconds, babe.” 

I narrowed my eyes. There were a few whistles and catcalls, which annoyed me, but I also heard some boys cheering me on with “Take him down, Jo!” and “You show him who’s the man!”

Justin ran at me. 

 _If he comes head on, just side-step at the last second,_ Gally had said. I waited until Justin was two feet away, then moved aside. He barreled into the boys making up the edge of the circle, and I heard some whoops. 

I turned quickly, ready for him to come back at me. He looked angry, but considering I’d lasted more than five seconds, it was understandable. 

The jerk. 

He glared at me, then lunged.

_If he just jumps at you, back up—careful not to trip over your own feet, do that and you’re pretty much shucked—lunge in another direction, or try to swing him around. He’ll have momentum, so you can just roll him over you and let him take himself down._

I didn't trust my feet, I’d decided then, so when he jumped, I took Gally’s third option and used Justin’s momentum against him. I grabbed onto one of his arms and scooted to that side, then pulled his arm across me, letting him stumble past and fall to his knees. 

Way louder cheers this time. Justin got to his feet with a snarl, his face red with anger now. 

_If you last long enough, he’ll get mad. Unless it’s Newt—which it won’t be—since he’s got a pretty controlled temper. Any of the shanks who want to fight, who really want to fight, will get ticked off that you’re winning._

If _I’m winning,_ I cautioned.

 _Think positive,_ Nick requested. 

 _When he gets mad, use it to your advantage,_ Gally instructed. _Taunt him a bit, make him angrier. Most likely, he’ll get rash. Frustrated. Make silly moves. You can probably just keep sidestepping, but we want to make an impression. Let him run at you, then trip him. If he doesn’t stay down, you make him stay down._

_How?_

_Just jump on him._

_I’m not as heavy as you._

_Just do it. Makes it final._

Justin did run at me, so I stuck out a leg and tripped him, and he face-planted in the sand, much to his embarrassment and frustration. All the boys were supporting me now. I caught Gally’s eye and he nodded, signaling for me to end the fight.

I didn’t jump on Justin, though. Instead, I extended my hand out to help him up. He looked up at me fuming, but I just waited patiently. I’d made my point, no need to rub it in.

In a flash, I was on my back. 

Justin had taken my hand, but instead of accepting the help I’d offered, he’d pulled me down. Now, he was standing above me, one foot on my chest, and a little higher up than I was comfortable with. 

He had a nauseating smirk stretched across his face, despite the fact that I’d had him on the ground a second before.

The boys were shouting at him. “Justin, man, she had you!” 

“Hey, that’s outta line!” 

“Not cool, shank!” 

I was more focused on his shuck face. Some of the boys moved to intervene, but Gally gave a shout and they stopped, just watching. 

“You wanna give it another go, babe?” Justin mocked. He even had the nerve to wink at me suggestively, and he let his eyes linger on my chest awhile before they darted back to my eyes. 

Anger boiled up inside me. I’d been the better man—woman—girl—and he’d shucking—

In another flash, I yanked on his arm—which was still holding mine—pulling him down towards me, forcing him to fall on my knee. It hit between his legs and he practically fell off me, howling. Once he was on all fours, I kicked him to his back, then put my foot on his chest. His eyes were watering and he was holding his crotch, the smug grin completely gone. 

I raised my brows at him, totally done with his attitude. “Do you?” I pushed on his chest with my foot for good measure before turning away. 

All the boys were silent. 

Then, slowly, someone began to clap. Then someone else, then everyone, and then they were cheering my name and patting me on the back, and Nick hoisted me up on his shoulders—I really was like a kid to him, a kid sister, plus he was tall and strong, so I must’ve been light—and I saw Gally with his arms crossed in a good way, eyes twinkling. He nodded at me, and I knew I’d earned his respect, and the respect of every Glader here—well, maybe not Justin, but I didn’t really care about his opinion of me.

I caught Newt’s eye, and I swear he looked more proud of me than anyone, even Gally. He had a huge grin across his face, and just like before, I saw something behind those brown eyes of his. Not fear, as before, but something else. Was it pride? Was it respect? 

I wasn't sure. But I’d remember that look forever, even if I lost my memories again, I would remember that look.

 

—

It was late when I became tired. I was sitting in the sand, leaned up against another log. More Gladers wrestled, most of them against Gally, but no one really talked to Justin. I met the rest of the boys, and they turned out to be pretty friendly. I wasn’t so scared of them anymore. 

“Time for bed, love.” I looked up to see Newt. He offered his hand, which I accepted, and he pulled me up. 

“Alright, shanks, get to bed!” Nick called out. “Tomorrow’s another day, get some shut-eye!” When he saw Newt and me, he walked over. “I’m gonna make sure these shanks are tucked in. Newt, you’ll see that she’s all set?”

“Got it covered, Nicky.”

“Alright then.” He turned away, but then looked back over his shoulder. “Sleep well, Jo.”

“Thanks, Nick. For everything.” He gave me a nod and a smile before helping Zart, who was a bit wobbly, to his hammock.

Newt and I walked to the Homestead quietly. When we got to his room, he started rummaging in his dresser for pajamas. “Turn around, would ya Jo?” he asked. I did, giving him privacy to change while I searched through my box for pajamas of my own. I hadn’t noticed night clothes before, but I thought I’d just missed them. However, after a few minutes of going through my few belongings, I was forced to face the conclusion that I, in fact, was given nothing to wear to sleep. 

“All clear,” he said once he was dressed. He wore long, softer-looking pants, and a tank top that showed off his well-muscled arms.

“Um, Newt?” I asked hesitantly. 

“Yes, love?”

“Um…I don’t have any pajamas.”

“Really? You checked?” He kneeled down next to me, inspecting the pile of clothes on the floor. 

“About five times, now,” I replied with a grimace. “What were you given?”

“Just comfy clothes. T-shirts, tank tops, soft pants. I see here, you don’t have any.” He sat back on his heels. “I have an extra t-shirt, if you want. It’ll probably be extra big on you, but that might be more comfortable, since you don’t have any pants.” 

“If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all. It’s yours.” He jumped back up and fetched me a dark shirt from his dresser. “Catch,” he said, tossing it to me. 

I caught it with one hand. When I held it up to my torso, I could see that it would cover at least until my upper thighs. With that in mind, I nodded my approval. “Turn around?” I asked, mirroring his previous request. He smiled and complied, giving me the privacy to change. 

“All clear.” I slid into my bed, tucking the sheet underneath my chin. “Thanks, Newt. For the shirt, and for letting me sleep here.”

“Course, love.”

He slid into his bed as well. Outside the door, we heard Nick go in his room. 

“Hey Jo?” Newt asked.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re here. I know it isn’t a great life…bloody awful life…but still…glad you’re here.”

“Me, too, Newt.”


	4. Second Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Jo struggle with on her first day working in the Glade? Or, more specifically, who? 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

Newt gently shook me awake the next morning. “Rise and shine, love. You’ve a long day ahead of you.”

I opened my groggy eyes. “It’s hardly light out,” I protested as I sat up.

He grinned cheekily. “Runner’s are up early, and the cooks and med-jacks too. If you wanna be one of those, you get up when I do.”

“Aright, alright, I’m up,” I yawned. He was already dressed for the day. I grabbed some fresh clothes from my box as he slipped out the door, telling me to meet him in the kitchens once I was dressed. 

I pulled on a gray-green three-quarter shirt and some brown pants that rested just below my hips, and brown boots. I put my hair in a side braid, then quickly scurried down to the kitchens. 

To my surprise, there were already boys there. Two cooks, four runners, including Newt and Minho, Nick, Alby, Gally, and a few other boys who must have been keepers. No Clint, yet, I noticed.

“Ah, there you are, Jo,” Nick greeted. He strode over to me, then sat me down at a table where Gally was sitting, eating ham and eggs. Gally nodded good morning, but didn’t talk. Not a morning person. “First, come with me.” I gave Gally a confused look, but he just jerked his head lazily, telling me to follow Nick.

Nick led me to the walls around the Glade. “Nick you already had me carve my name and I’ve already seen the Doors,” I protested.

“But you haven’t seen this yet, and I want you to.” He motioned me closer to the walls, where a clear square hid by the ivy. As I got closer, I realized it was a window. “Look through,” he commanded, and I did.

Outside, the Maze was dark and frightening. It was completely empty of all life. 

Or so I thought.

A steady glow came closer to the window, and that’s when I saw it.

A Griever.

“Gah!” I shrieked, launching away from the window. 

“Nope!” Nick hauled me back and made me watch the monster. It had a slimy, blubbery white body, with metallic limbs sticking out, making it appear as a huge, metal-and-blubber spiderish thing. “I want you to know what’s out there, Jo. I want you to understand the dangers of the Maze.”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” I yanked away. “Shuck, Nick, ya could have warned me!”  
He shrugged unapologetically. “Not the way we do it. Now come on, back to the Kitchens.”

I grumbled along, telling him that there were other ways to handle that, but he didn’t listen. When we got back to the Kitchen, Gally was still sitting, tiredly eating his breakfast. Definitely not a morning person. Nick patted my shoulder and sat me across from the Builder. “I’ll grab you some breakfast, then we can talk about your schedule.”

As he fetched me food, I frowned, “I have a schedule?”  
Clint came over with his own plate and sat next to Gally. He must have come in while Nick so kindly showed me the Griever. “Well, I’ve already had three boys come up to me this morning, complaining about needing to see a Med-jack. Two last night, asking to see us today.”

“So?” 

Gally chuckled through his mouthful as Clint explained, “Well, greenie, that means that they knew I wanted you to work this first day, and they’re trying to talk to you. They’re feigning illness or injury so that they can see you.”

“Oh.” 

Nick put a plate down in front of me. Eggs, bacon, and oatmeal. “Eat up, kiddo,” he told me as he sat down.

“Anyways,” Clint continued, “we’re keeping what job you work each day a secret so that the Gladers don’t try to get involved.”

“Okay,” I shrugged. Really, to make that big of a deal over me? Sounded foolish.

Nick smiled. “That was easy.”

“Alright, Runners, grab your packs and let’s go!” Newt called out. Minho and the other Runners, a few who’d only just showed up, slipped on harnesses and small backpacks before heading to the Doors. Newt waved goodbye and wished me luck on my first day before leaving himself. Within a minute, I heard the walls shuddering open.

Nick shook his head. “That boy knows exactly when those Doors open.” 

Another boy, with dark skin and short, curly hair, and surprisingly toned arm muscles, came to sit next to Clint. “I’m Jeff,” he introduced. “The other Med-Jack.”

I shook his hand excitedly. “Too bad I won’t be working with you two today,” I sighed. 

He gave a small smile. Was he shy, or just a more quiet sort? “Well, I just about got swarmed by all the Builders. They complained about hitting their fingers yesterday or fighting Gally.” He pointed at me with his fork. “You are the real reason they want to see the Med-Jacks.”

I made a face. “I’m not that special, you know.”

Nick laughed. “You’re a girl, kiddo. Something these shanks haven’t seen in who knows how long.” Seeing someone behind me, he put up his hand to wave.

“Alright, she-bean, first day working.” I turned to see Alby come up to the table. “Today you start with the Slicers. Winston here is your Keeper.” Another boy, with dark hair and warm skin, with an acne-covered face, came up. 

He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, greenie.”  
I wiped off my hand, hoping it wasn’t messy from the bacon, and shook his hand. “And you.” It was fine that they kept calling me greenie. It was an endearing term, mostly, and it was better than ‘babe.’

“This way,” Winston jerked his head out the door. 

I stood, handing my empty plate to the cook behind the bar. “Alright, see you later then,” I told the Gladers at the table. Gally gave me a salute with his fork, then continued eating. 

I followed Winston out the door. He brought me to the Blood House, a type of barn, where the animals were waking up. I didn’t realize how many there were: a cow, two goats, chickens, pigs, and a dog.

“Right then, greenie,” Winston began, “we’ll start ya out easy. Take this,” he handed me a bucket, “and feed the chickens. Then the cow, and then go to the kitchen and get leftovers from Frypan to feed the pigs.” He went outside, saying, “Any questions, just holler.” 

I had an easy time with my chores. When I went to the kitchen, a few Gladers swarmed me, asking why I wasn't working as a Med-jack, how my day was, if they could help me, or if I needed another tour.

I only got rid of them when I got into the sanctuary of the kitchen. There, Frypan was preparing for lunch as the other cooks cleaned up breakfast. 

“Ya know, sista, you can just tell them to scram,” he told me with a smile. 

“Don’t want to be impolite,” I shrugged. He handed me two buckets for the pigs, and I thanked him before scurrying off. I wondered if he’d already given the cooks a warning not to bother me, or if they were just nice that way. On my way back to the barn, I got three offers by Gladers who wanted to help me carry the buckets.

“No thanks, it’s my chore,” I told them. 

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to carry buckets for pigs,” one of them, a boy named Frankie, I remembered, said.

“Oi!” I scolded. “I appreciate the offer, but if I’m going to pull my own weight around here, I can’t be taking help for every task I’m assigned.”

“Frankie! Adam!” another boy shouted, “leave her be!” A bagger came over, with caramel-colored skin and curly black hair. 

The two boys muttered and stalked off. “Name’s Billy,” the bagger said, and I shook his outstretched hand. He seemed somewhat creepy, but if they collected the bodies of dead Gladers, I wouldn’t be surprised. “I’m a Bagger. You need one of us to get rid of anyone bothering you, just wave us over.”

“Will do,” I nodded. He left me to finish my chore, and I was grateful. 

After I fed the pigs, Winston showed me how to milk the cow. It took me the rest of the morning and some of the time after lunch. 

Lunch was quite eventful.

I sat with the Slicers, eating soup and a sandwich, but at least a third of the Gladers came over, talking to me or one of the Slicers—while looking at me. I was juggling eating lunch and working through four different conversations until Winston had had enough.

“Beat it, slintheads!” he shouted through his bread. “Let the poor girl eat!”

I was glad he spoke up, because I was still wary of being impolite. “Goodness, you’d think they’d never seen a shank girl before!”

“Not that they can remember,” Frypan called from the kitchen. I laughed, but quickly finished eating so that I could get back to work. After the cow, Winston brought me to the Blood House. I immediately felt uncomfortable. The blood didn’t bother me, but the clucking of chickens when Winston grabbed them didn’t sit well with me. 

“Just grab the body and the head,” he demonstrated, “and just—”

No more clucking.

He held the limp body, having just wrung its neck. Next he picked up an axe. “Then set it on the block, put your foot on the body, and chop of its head.” 

I stared at the beheaded creature. I mean, sure, I liked eating chicken, but to chop off its head, that was something else.

He motioned towards the chicken coop. “Grab one.”

I shook my head. “No.”

He frowned. “You have to try it, greenie.”

“No. I won’t do it. I want to be a healer, not a killer.”

Winston scowled. “You just ate bacon for breakfast. That pig? I slaughtered it yesterday.”

I made a face. “Good for you. I’m not slaughtering anything, so if that’s a requirement for this job, count me out.”

He sighed and put down the axe. “Alright, greenie. Go take Bark on a walk, then. Make sure he doesn’t run off.”

I quickly went to the dog’s pen and made friends, rubbing his ears and letting him lick my face. “Come on, boy,” I cooed, “let’s go.”

As I took him on a walk around the Glade, I tried to avoid the Gladers. A few came up, patting Bark while making small talk with me. I didn’t stop walking, however, and I saw the Keepers scold their charges when they hovered around me too long. 

Dinner that night was chicken.

I gave it to Newt, who slid on the bench next to me. Minho came to sit on my other side. “Winston make you kill a chicken?” he asked as he started eating. 

“He tried,” I snorted. “I didn’t do it.” Minho tried to take my carrots, but I poked my fork at him. “I didn’t have to kill any vegetables, so hands off.”

He laughed at me but did as I said. “Not Slicer material, then. What’s tomorrow?”  
“Don’t know. I find out in the morning.”

“Bet it’ll be the Builders.”

Newt cocked his head. “Why do you say that?”

Minho shoved a forkful into his mouth before speaking. “Soh you don’ hawve problems wiwf Jusin.” 

I frowned. “Minho swallow your food before you talk. I could hardly understand you.”

He swallowed apologetically. “So you don’t have problems with Justin, I said.”

“I don’t have problems with Justin,” I scowled, “he’s the one who has a problem with me.”

Just as I said that, who walked up but Justin. He was carrying a pitcher of water with him. “Evening, Runners, Newbie,” he said cheerfully. “Care for some more water?”

“Get lost,” Newt drawled. “She doesn’t want your bloody company.”

Justin put a hand to his chest dramatically. “Oh, how you wound me, Mr. Keeper. However I was talking to the lady, not the lad,” he nodded to me, using Newt’s dialect. 

I glared. “Nonetheless I still don’t want your company.” I returned to my dinner, hoping Justin would go away, but instead I felt icy cold water spill across my front. I stood up in a flash, but since Newt and Minho were sharing my bench and didn’t rise with me, a tripped over it and fell. “Justin you idiot!” I screeched. “What was that for?”

He smiled innocently, water dripping from his now-empty pitcher. “I could have sworn you said you didn’t want these two Runners’ company. With the way they smell, I could have only assumed it was because of their stench.” He held up his pitcher. “This should fix that.”

Minho launched himself at Justin, but Gally stepped in between them. “Justin, you slinthead! Outside, now, or I’ll throw you in the Slammer!” 

Justin complied with an arrogant smirk as Newt helped me off the ground. Minho, meanwhile, was complaining colorfully to Gally, as the other Gladers stared at the dramatic spectacle.

“Gal you can’t let him get off like that. He just dumped that on her! Without reason!”

Gally glanced at me. His eyes hovered a second before he quickly looked away. Was his face a little pink? Yes, it was, he was definitely blushing. I didn’t think rough-tough Gally was the type of boy to blush.

“I think he had a reason,” Gally noted. “Girlie, you probably want to change.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s the matter?” I said, looking down at my soaking shirt. “Oh.”

I heard a few whistles, but Newt quickly stepped in front of me, yelling, “Oi you shanks, quit that!”

It really wasn’t that big of a deal. My bra was definitely visible from underneath the shirt, which was sticking to my skin. I could see my belly button as well, but honestly my chest was still covered, so it wasn’t as if I was showing off much. Except for the outline of my cleavage, and the hourglass that defined my waist, and the curves of my hips before they disappeared under the tops of my pants…

I left the table in a hurry to change, taking care to go out a different door than Justin had. I went to bed early, and Newt came in after I was asleep. I had nightmares of tanks of water and see-through shirts, and beheaded chickens and beheaded Gladers dead under Grievers, the memories of the day haunting my rest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names come from the name wall from TMR movie, or TMR database (trying to keep this basically canon—it'll make sense later). Boys are named after scientists, as with the books. 
> 
> Nick: Nikola Tesla 
> 
> Adam: on name wall, Adam Watson or Adam Cohen
> 
> Frankie: Francis Bacon
> 
> Billy: William Harvey or BIlly Nye ;) 
> 
> Justin: wall of names, perhaps Justin John Yerbury


	5. Builders, Bricknicks, and Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day with the Builders may not be that stressful, but what trouble does Justin cause when Jo works as a Bricknick? Could Ben be put in serious danger?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

 

The next day, I worked with the Builders.

Gally kept Justin in the forest, chopping trees. He and Ben were kind to me, and the other Builders weren’t that bad either. Gally showed me how to use an axe, and I wasn’t awful at chopping wood. Not that fast, but not unbearably slow, either. He said that he would take me as a Builder if I wanted, but I wasn’t sure if I’d want to be that near Justin. Still, it could happen.

Ben was especially fun to be around. He had a good sense of humor, and he called me ‘princess,’ but in an endearing way, not in a you’re-so-pathetic-you-can’t-do-a-thing-for-yourself way. In fact, it was after I finally got the hang of making my own chair that he whistled and commented that I wasn’t a pathetic little princess, but that I could, in fact, take care of myself, and do it well.

The day after being a Builder, I worked as a Bricknick, which was not much different. It was, however, more eventful. We went to the Slaughterhouse, to the barn-like portion where the animals were kept. Winston had moved them for the time being, so that the Builders and Bricknicks together could fix the barn, which needed a fix since the cow got out yesterday. 

Gally worked on the side of the barn, with most of the Builders, while the Bricknicks worked on the doors, pens, and roof. Dmitri, the curly-brown-haired Keeper of the Bricknicks, gave me the job of handing tools to his workers. Apparently he didn’t think I was good at anything, despite Gally’s praise regarding my work the day before.

The boys on the roof kept a toolbox hanging from the side, tied off by a piece of rope. I didn’t know much about knots, but something seemed off about that one. 

I eyed the hanging toolbox warily. “Uh, Gal?” I asked. 

“Hm?” He had nails in between his lips. One by one he took them out and hammered them into the side of the barn, fixing the planks of wood. He wasn't really paying attention. 

“You sure that tool box is secure?”

He didn’t answer, obviously too focused on his work to really hear me. I shouted up to Dmitri. He was on the roof with Justin. “Hey, Dmitri? I don’t think that box is tied off properly.”

“It’s fine, greenie,” he sighed. “Justin, get me a hammer, will you?”

Dmitri scooted up the roof. Justin grabbed the hammer from the hanging box and gave me a smirk, to taunt everyone’s lack of attention towards me.

As he turned away, the knot on the box slipped a little.

I gasped, but no one else noticed. 

Ben was standing directly underneath the box, and if it dropped, it would hit his head. The box was metal…it could crack his skull, with all the tools in it giving it extra weight. 

“Hey, Ben, you wanna move out from under that box?”

He glanced up at it lazily, more preoccupied with the door he was working on. “It’s fine, princess, stop worrying. Justin tied it off fine.”

Oh, so Justin tied it off? I glared at his turned back. Was he that daft?

The box slipped a little lower.

“Um, guys, can someone listen to me? That box is going to fall!”

No response. All the Builders and Bricknicks were busy hammering away at their respective parts of the barn.

“Excuse me!” I shouted. “Fix that shucking box!”

“Slim it, babe,” Justin sighed, “It’s fine.”

Dmitri didn’t way a word, didn’t hear me no doubt. That or he ignored me, like everyone else. 

Gally was too focused. 

Ben didn’t look up. He just kept hammering.

I stepped closer to Ben. I would just _make_ him listen to me—

The box slipped out of the rope. As it fell, I lunged at Ben, pushing him sideways, out of the way of the falling metal, and as we both fell, I felt a sharp pain cut down the back of my right shoulder. 

“Hey!” Ben shouted, as I hissed in pain. The box landed with a crash, right where he had been standing a second before. 

We tumbled to the ground, landing on our sides. I felt a warm trickle down my back and immediately knew it was blood. Shuck.

Everyone stopped working and looked over at the cause of the noise. 

“Ben?” Gally asked, stepping towards us. “Girlie? Shuck, girlie, you’re bleeding.” 

I grimaced. “Ya, well, its better than having Ben’s brains painting a pretty picture on the ground, isn’t it?”

I stood as Ben did. I craned my neck around, trying to see how bad my shoulder was. It hurt, and my shirt was red, but it wasn’t bleeding too bad. Just a cut.

“What the shuck, Justin!” Dmitri yelled from above us. “You said you had it tied off!”

Ben gaped at me, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. “That would have crushed my head.”

I needed to go see Clint, needed this disinfected. Who knows what was on the bottom of that box? “Gal, can I go get this disinfected?” I asked. “Er, I guess Dmitri’s my Keeper today…Dmitri? Good that?”

“Justin you slinthead! This is why I hate working with you!” Dmitri slid down the ladder, furious. “Gally can’t you keep an eye on him?”

Gally spread his hands. “Shuck Dmitri I’m not his shucking babysitter! You’re the one that wanted him up there!”

Dmitri stepped up to Gally. They looked close to landing blows. “Yeah, not if he was gonna do a shuck job and try to kill Ben here!”

“Boys!” I shouted, stepping between them. “Calm down, all of you! It was an accident, alright?”  
They took a breath. Dmitri looked startled when he saw the blood on my shirt. “Greenie, you’re bleeding,” he informed me.

“Yes I know,” I said as politely as I could, through gritted teeth. “May I go see Clint?”

He bent down a bit, so that his eyes were level with mine. I furrowed my brows, confused, but he squinted at me. “You pushed Ben out of the way?”  
I nodded curtly. “No one was listening to me.”

He stood up again. “Shuck, Jo, I didn’t think you…”

“Knew what I was talking about?” I finished for him.

He frowned apologetically. “I guess.”

“Go on, girlie, go see Clint,” Gally said. “We’re all fine here.”

I nodded and headed to the Homestead. “Wait, Jo!” Ben called. I turned around. He shrugged sheepishly. “Just…thanks.”

I grinned at the ginger-haired boy. “Anytime, Ben.” 

Clint was the only one in the med-jack hut when I got there.

“Hey, Clint, you mind fixing this up?”

He was sitting on a cot, looking over a textbook. I figured that when he and Jeff weren’t looking after Gladers, they must be trying to learn more about their profession. The room was pretty clean, with cabinets and crates full of various medicines, bandages, and other supplies. There were at least a dozen textbooks, as well as small pamphlets. On the walls were old and worn Emergency Situation posters, including one for CPR. 

Clint looked up at me and smiled when I walked in, then frowned when I showed him my shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Tool box fell,” I explained as he sat me down on a stool. 

He inspected the wound, but my shirt was in the way, even if it was torn. I knew this. So did Clint. “Um,” he muttered, stepping around the stool and sitting on a cot in front of me, a bottle of peroxide in his hand. “So if you were a guy I’d just have you take your shirt off. But you’re not, so…what do you want to do?”

I grimaced, but considered the situation carefully. “Uh, I guess…well, you’re a med-jack, that counts as a doctor, right?”

“Right.” 

“So…to you, skin is just skin, right?”  
“I suppose?” He seemed a bit nervous, as if I was making him feel awkward.  
“Well how about this,” I offered, “you seem pretty chill to me, and if I’m a med-jack, we’re gonna be good friends, ya?” He nodded, so I continued. “Well, how about if I ever need to be treated in a way that make me uncomfortable with the others around, like right now, we kick them out, I wear my bra and we just realize that skin is skin and mine isn’t any different than anyone else’s. I mean, you boys take your shirts off all the time.”

He nodded slowly. “Works for this situation. If you ever need to be treated like this again, we’ll just do the same thing, good that?”

“Good that,” I agreed. I pulled off my shirt and held it in front of my stomach, so that only my back was revealed. Clint grabbed a cotton ball, a wash cloth, and a small bucket of hot water. “Gonna clean it with the hot water, then disinfect it with the peroxide,” he explained. “Probably will hurt, but that’s a good thing.”

“I know,” I told him. “Just go for it.”

I winced when he cleaned the cut, which was actually a lot bigger and deeper than I thought. “Sorry, Jo,” he apologized. “Why’d the box fall? Someone knock it over?”

He was trying to distract me, I knew, and was glad. “Justin didn’t tie it off properly,” I said through gritted teeth. “Would’ve crushed Ben’s head.” 

“What do you mean?”  
“I mean that no one listened to me when I said, ‘look at the box’ and so I pushed Ben out of the way and it hit me instead.”

Clint let out a long whistle. “I’m impressed. They won’t be forgetting that for a while, especially Ben. I’d say you’ve earned your place here, Jo.”

I smiled, thinking the same thing to myself. Justin made life difficult, but otherwise I wasn’t faring too bad. Sure, this was a bad situation, and I had no memories, but I could have a good job here, given the circumstances, and make friends. Hopefully, next month another girl would come up, and somehow we’d all find a way out, back home to where we belonged. 

“All done,” he told me. “Might want to grab a new shirt,” he suggested. I put the one I had back on for the time being, before thanking him and going to my room to fetch a new one. 

Once dressed, I went back down to the Blood House, where the Builders and Bricknicks were still working. Justin stood off to the side, handing boys tools and looking especially grumpy.

He glared at me when I walked up, but said nothing. “Jo!” Dmitri greeted cheerfully when he saw me. The others stopped working to look up. “Jo, come here, I want you to try your hand at fixing these pens.” He led me over to the pens on the inside of the Bloodhouse, where Ben was working. “Take the hammer like this,” he explained as he demonstrated, “and just hold these pieces together. A few taps gets the nail in, then you can give one or two hard swings and it should go in fine.”

I did as he asked, and once I hammered in a few nails, I had the hang of things, and went quickly. He shook the pen to test if it held together, which it did. “Good job. Go ahead and help Ben finish up in here,” he instructed before leaving.

We worked in silence for awhile before Ben spoke up. “Jo, I want to thank you, again, for what you did.” He put his hammer down. “We should have listened to you. I’m sorry. I promise, it won’t happen again.” 

I smiled. “Sure thing, Ben.” I hammered in another nail. “Besides, you’d have done it for me.” 

He nodded and kept working as well. “Anything you ever need, princess, you let me know. And if no one listens to you, I will.”

“Good that, Ben.”

—

When work was done that day, Dmitri gave me his apology. “I underestimated you, Jo, and Ben could have died because of that.” He stared me hard in the eyes, as he did before. “I’m grateful for what you did, and I’d be glad to have you as a Bricknick, if you want.”

I grinned at him. “I’m happy to hear it, Dmitri.” 

He nodded in return, mirroring my smile, before clapping a hand on my shoulder and steering me to dinner.

“Oh, and Jo?” he called as I went to sit with Minho, who was saving me a seat at a table with Newt, Nick, Ben, and Gally, “if Justin gives you any trouble, let me know. I’ll take care of him for you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names from Wall of Names. Boys are scientists. 
> 
> Dmitri: Dmitri Mendeleyev


	6. Med-Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Jo gets to try her hand at being a Med-Jack! When she does, in fact, get a chance to play the medic, what's the reason? Why is it that the boys are causing trouble?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

  

 

Finally, my day as a Med-jack arrived. Clint approached me at my early breakfast, grinning from ear to ear. “Alright, Jo,” he announced, “today’s the day!”  
I stood in a hurry. We practically raced to the Med-Jack hut, trying to avoid the Gladers before they woke. I knew that while most of them I’d met by now, many who became friends, some were still curious and would feign injury to see me up close. Which, of course, was ridiculous, but Nick was still preaching Order, and I went with it.

Clint and Jeff showed me around the hut, a large room on the second story of the Homestead. It was filled with cabinets, cots, tables, short stacks of books, and posters that were up on the walls. After a few minutes, I knew where all the medicines and even the emergency instructions were.

“You already know this, I’m sure,” Clint said as he took out a bin from a low cabinet, “but when someone comes in with a bloody wound, you need to clean it with hot water before you sanitize it with peroxide or alcohol.” He pointed at a pot of water sitting atop a black slab of metal. “This heater is always plugged in. We somehow get electricity. Don’t ask why we get running water and electricity but no memories. Anyways, the heater keeps this water here hot so that we have it on hand anytime. Put a bowl or a bucket underneath the person’s, say, arm, so that you don’t get water all over the floor. Then we put it in this bucket here,” he gestured to a large bucket in the corner, “and the Sloppers dump it at the end of the day, in a corner of the Glade, so it won’t infect our other water.”

Jeff showed me where the towels were kept. “Dry the wound, then disinfect it, then wrap it. Make sure you put a non-stick pad over the nastier bloody wounds before wrapping gauze around it.” He held up both. “Believe me, when you have to pull gauze out of a wound that’s dried in blood, it hurts. Badly.” 

Jeff didn’t seem as shy today. Perhaps that was because I was working with him now, and wasn’t the brand-new toy. No, here I was a student to instruct. He and Clint were my teachers. “Ice packs in here,” he showed me a mini cooler-type-thing.

As Jeff began explaining me the basics of CPR, a cook ran in, huffing. “Rob sliced his hand open,” he panted. “He’s too scared to see her—” he jerked his thumb at me, “so he wants you to come down.” 

I frowned. “What’s wrong with me?” I was somewhat offended.

The cook shook his head. “He just freaked out. Knew you were a Med-Jack today, but doesn’t want to be treated by you.”

“Well, I’m only just starting, but is that the reason?”

He shrugged. “Scared of girls, I guess. Clint? Jeff?”

“I’ll go,” Clint offered, snatching up a pre-packed medical bag. “Jo, this is for when you’re out of the hut. Just grab one of these and some hot water in a thermos if you need it.” Jeff filled and passed Clint a thermos before the Keeper and the cook left. 

Jeff and I chatted easily. He’d been here a few months now, and admitted that when he wasn’t being strict and commanding as a doctor, he was shy and quiet. When there was work to be done, personalities didn’t matter, the job did. He would be rough if someone was refusing treatment, but otherwise, didn't talk much with the Gladers. I made a mental note to get him out of his shell. He was kind and polite, and I was already having a great morning.

Before Clint got back, three more Gladers came into the Med-Jack hut, shouting.

“Rule Two, you stupid shank,” Alby scolded roughly. “You’re supposed to have more control than this.”

“If he’d kept his mouth shut, this wouldn’t have happened!” Was that Dmitri? 

He entered, being pushed by Alby. Stan, one of the Bricknicks, was being dragged in the rear by the Second-in-Command, shouting retorts back at his Keeper while Alby hushed them and kept them separated. The two Bricknicks stopped arguing when they saw me, giving Jeff and I the opportunity to quickly seat them both down on cots. 

“Alby you get him out of here,” Dmitri snapped, rage painted clearly on his face.

Alby raised his eyebrows. He leaned, arms crossed, against the doorframe. “Stan, should I do as your Keeper suggests? Or are you going to behave?”

I took a look at Dmitri’s face. He had a cut on his temple and two growing bruises on his cheeks, plus a darkening black eye. “Here,” I gave him a cool pack to put on his face. “I’ll clean that cut.” I dipped a wash cloth in some hot water, cleaned the cut, then sterilized it with peroxide on a cotton swab.

“I’ll behave, I swear,” Stan said innocently, as Jeff attended to his two black eyes, split lip, and bleeding nose, “but can I have her as my doctor?” He winked at me.

“You little—” Dmitri launched himself at Stan, but Alby was on him in an instant, keeping him seated on the cot in front of me.

I frowned, confused. “Problem?”

Dmitri looked murderous. He glanced at me, then focused his sight back on Stan. “Alby, listen to him. He’s a shucking slinthead.”

“I just want to meet her,” Stan complained. “Just wanna talk. Yeesh.”

Dmitri growled. I stood and went over to Stan, still frowning. “Talk, then,” I commanded, and held an ice pack to his eye. 

Stan smirked. “Ya wanna gimme a kiss, doc? Make my boo-boo all better?”

I snorted. “Then _I_ might get sick, and Jeff’ll have to treat both of us.” The other boys guffawed. I bent down to look Stan clear in the eyes, eyebrows raised, no nonsense. “Unless you ask him or Clint to give you a kiss, I suggest you refrain from asking me as well. Got that?”

He nodded numbly. “Uh, sure, doc.”

“Good,” I said brightly, standing up straight again. “Then, I think Jeff’s got you pretty much finished. Take that ice pack with you and keep your eyes cool for a few hours.”

He trudged out embarrassedly.

I turned to Dmitri. “Now,” I demanded sternly, “what was that all about?” He looked down and muttered something incomprehensible. “Speak up, Dmitri,” I scolded.

When he didn’t respond, Alby spoke for him. “Stan was talking bad on you. Inappropriate talk that’ll land him the rest of the day in the Slammer. Dmitri told him to shut up, Stan didn’t, and they got into a tussle.”

I was shocked. Dmitri, who’d been so judgmental to me a day before, standing up for my honor? I supposed that he really was grateful for what I did for Ben. “Dmitri,” I began, not knowing what to say. “That was very…very gallant of you, to stand up for me. Though,” I added, “I wish it hadn’t come to fighting.”

The Keeper looked at me sharply, his dark eyes glinting with fury. “I won’t have one of my Bricknicks talking like he was.” He shook his head stiffly, his hands in fists. “No, m’am, I will not have it.” He glanced out the door. “Can I go now?”

“Well, I won’t be putting both of you shanks in the Slammer at the same time,” Alby said. “But you were fighting, even if it was for a good reason. Still, for standing up for our new sister here, you’re off the hook.” He stepped from the doorway. “Go on back to your Bricknicks. Tell them anyone who badmouths Jo like Stan did gets the same punishment he does.”

I watched in surprise as Dmitri left. Alby waited until he heard the door to the Homestead slam before saying, “It was a big fight. All the Builders and Bricknicks were shouting, but those two were the only ones beat up enough to warrant a trip here.” 

I walked to the window and peered outside, searching for the Bloodhouse, where the Gladers in question would be working.

However, instead of busy boys, I saw a cluster of Gladers, with a tall figure I could make out as Nick waving his arms and pointing at various boys, then over towards the Homestead, then to the Slammer, then to the Maze. I could also make out Gally at the edge of the grouping, holding two other boys by their collars. One had ginger hair, Ben, and the other was dark-haired. Justin, probably, though I wasn’t sure from this distance. I also noticed a couple of boys who must have been the Baggers. I could tell that one of them was Billy, the one who’d introduced himself the day I worked with the Slicers. I knew him by his caramel-colored skin and dark hair, and the way he put his hands on the shoulder of two boys who kept swatting at each other.

“Why are they being so difficult?” I asked Alby, finally turning away from the scene outside the window. “Why is my being here such an issue?”

Jeff chuckled, but Alby looked stern when he answered, “You’re a girl, Jo. First one we’ve had here, first one we can remember ever seeing.”

“So what? You’ve seen girls sometime before in your lives,” I reasoned. I sighed heavily when he raised his dark brows. “I’m just another Glader, okay? Can’t they just get over it?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it, she-bean. Some of the boys see you like a sister, some are starting to crush on you—” I glared at that comment—“and some see you as something else.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What ‘else’?”

Alby pursed his lips. “I won’t hide anything from you, she-bean. But I’ll tell you now, some Gladers don’t have the most gentlemanly thoughts regarding you. Stan? He’s nothing. Justin. Justin’s the one you have to worry about. He’s the worst of the slintheads who…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to. I knew, Justin was the ‘worst of the slintheads’ who’d been making crude comments about me.

I huffed. “Well then, they’ll have to learn some manners.”

He gave me a half-smile. “Guess so. They won’t get away with any klunk if I have anything to say about it.”

— 

I didn’t ask about Ben’s bruised cheek or Gally’s bloody knuckles at dinner. When Minho saw them, he opened his mouth to ask, but I kicked him under the table and shook my head. Newt noticed, and gave a look that begged me to tell him what was up. I gave him one that said I’d tell him later.

“How was your day as a Med-Jack?” Newt asked, in an effort to loosen the tension. Luckily, I could be excited without having to feign emotion. 

“It was great!” I smiled brightly. “Not too many injuries, but I got to help fix up a few Gladers. The Med-jack room has some good medical books, though, and I’d like more time to read up on those.”

Minho wrinkled his nose. “You like those boring things? When I saw them, I practically ran out of there. Too boring.” He shuddered at the memory and took a large bite of bread, which was with our dinner.

I glared. “Minho, that information is very useful, especially here, where we have no trained medics. Those books? That’s all the Med-Jacks have to go on to save your sorry butt when you get hurt.”

Minho opened his mouth to retort, but Newt swatted us with a spoon. “Now, now, children, no squabbling at the bloody dinner table.”

I hid a grin. Minho nodded at his keeper gravely and said, “Yes, Mama Newt.” I kicked him under the table again. “By the way, Jo,” he asked, “how come you wanna be a Med-Jack when you couldn't even kill a chicken? The blood not settle with you?”

“No,” I defended, “I’ll kill it if I have to, but I don’t have to and I don’t want to. Like I told Winston, I want to heal, not kill.” I bit into my bread and hummed in glee. Frypan sure knew how to cook, and bake, and I was glad to have him here. At least we had supplies for food. I mean, really, things could have been worse. Or, at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

“But don’t girls have a problem seeing blood? I mean, Med-Jacks see a lot of blood. What if you, like, faint?”

I laughed heartily. “Minho, I think you’re forgetting that I see more blood than you do.”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean? I’m a Runner, we see blood. You, you just got here.”

I laughed again. He was a dork. “Every girl sees blood. For almost a week. Every month.”

At that, Minho turned pink. “Right,” he cleared his throat, “forgot that.” He shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Newt for help, but Newt was just smirking at his friend’s awkward situation. “Um…do you have the proper…supplies for that?”

“Creators sent me up some pills, so I’m free from that agony.” I couldn’t help but let out a giggle at Minho’s blush, which continued to deepen. Gally, next to Minho, elbowed him and told him to stop making things awkward.

Beside me, Ben took in a sharp breath. Gally immediately turned around, and I looked up to see what upset them.

Justin.

He had bruises on his cheek, and I could tell by the way he and Ben glared at each other that Justin’s bruises were from my friend, and Ben’s bruise was from my enemy. Gally gave a threatening crackle of his knuckles, and Justin turned away with a glower. Anyone could see the tension. I caught Alby’s eye from across the room and raised my eyebrows, while he pursed his lips and switched between looking at me and eyeing Justin suspiciously. Justin sat down to eat his food, but I wasn’t in the mood to start another fight. Instead, I finished my dinner. “Boys, I think I’m off to bed,” I announced, standing up.

“Me too,” Newt said, also standing. We took our plates back to Frypan before walking to the Homestead together. “So,” he pressed, as soon as we were out of earshot of anyone, “what was up with that?”

“Fighting,” I sighed. “Slinthead Bricknicks making trouble.” When he nudged me for more, I continued, “Stan bad-mouthed me, Dmitri defended me with his fists. As Alby says, Justin talked bad too, and Ben of course gave Justin a lesson in being a punching bag.”

“Of course.” We reached the door and made our way up the stairs, as Newt inquired as to what _type_ of bad talk.

“Don’t know,” I replied, not being completely truthful.

Newt could tell. “Over you, or over you being a girl?”

We got into our room and each turned around so that the other could change into nightclothes. “The latter,” I admitted, pulling his shirt over my head. I knew the difference in what he was asking. “I don’t see why Justin can’t be amiable. He’s such a…”

“A slinthead?” Newt offered. “I don’t know, Jo. Ya good?”

“Yeah,” I said, turning around. He did the same, clad only in his shorts tonight. It was a bit warmer, I almost wished I had something cooler to wear, but I wasn’t about to sleep in a tank top and underwear, and I was given no shorts. Newt’s shirt was still the best option. “At least he’s the worst shank I have to worry about here.” Luckily, the other boys weren’t as bad. Even Stan would learn manners. 

Newt, of course, was the best one here. “Ah, Jo,” he yawned as we climbed onto our respective mattresses, “don’t waste your time worrying about him. We have your back.”

I laid my head down on the pillow and decided that the day’s events were certainly proof of that.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names from Wall of Names. Boys are scientists.
> 
>  
> 
> Rob: wall of names. Robert Hooke  
> Stan: wall of names/TMR wiki. Stanley Miller


	7. Weeds and Goats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo gets bored working as a Track-hoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

My next day was my day in the gardens with the Track-hoes.

Zart was nice, if a little awkward. He had straw-colored hair and a nice smile, with a big round face that was very tan from his days in the gardens. He showed me how to pick the fruits at the right time, and then set me to weeding, but frankly, I was bored in the gardens, and the Track-hoes weren’t much for conversationists. The day passed slowly, and I got lost in thought while weeding by the squash.

“Somebody help me!” came a frantic voice suddenly. I looked up from the weeds to see Winston, Keeper of the Slicers, running for his life as a bleating goat, its horns pointed towards the boy, chased after him. “Help!” he shouted again.

I immediately launched to my feet and sprinted towards him. He was heading towards the Deadheads, and I was close by. If I too headed towards the trees, I could intercept the goat before the two of them dove into the deadheads.

“He-elp!” Winston kept shouting. By now, three other boys were after him, but they were too far away. The goat was getting closer to Winston, and he was going to get rammed any second. 

I got closer, we were all near the trees, if I went a little faster then—

I lunged for the goat right as Winston disappeared into the trees. “Gotcha!” I told it. It bleated in return, trying to get out of my grasp, but I held it tight around the middle, where its horns couldn’t get me. “Shh,” I told it, holding it tight and stroking its fur. “Hush, sweetie, what are you going after Winston for, hmm?” As if it—she—could understand me. Maybe she did. Soon enough, she stopped bleating and struggling against me. Maybe it was because I was female. Could goats sense that? I mean, it wasn’t like it wasn’t obvious, but…

“How’d you get her to calm down?” Winston panted. He appeared through the trees. “She was going crazy, I didn’t do nothin!” 

The goat bleated back at him.

“Really?” I asked, not believing him. “What exactly were you ‘not doing’?”

He spread his hands. “She got her neck caught in a wire, I was just trying to undo it so she wouldn’t strangle herself!”

I gently examined her neck. There was a red line around it, and I could tell that there had been something tight on it before. “Maybe you just weren't gentle enough,” I offered. 

“What’s going on here?” Nick panted as he walked up to us. He, Gally, and another boy I didn’t recognize had been the ones running after Winston. 

“Goat went nuts,” Winston huffed.

“No, she just was being defensive,” I countered. The goat nuzzled up to me. I released my hold on her middle and instead let her climb over my lap. She rubbed her face against my shoulder, but her horns weren’t so threatening now. “She was hurt. She didn’t realize you were trying to help, Winston, it was still hurting her when you tried to take off the wire, or string, or whatever it was.” 

“Is she fine now?” Nick asked.

I shrugged. “She’ll heal.” I looked up at Winston. “Did she get you?”

“Nah,” he waved off. “You got her first.”

I stood, careful not to trip over the goat. “Probably take her back, now.” 

Nick looked at the goat, then at me. “Sure you can’t handle being a Slicer?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’d rather not spend my days slaughtering the animals I raise.”

Winston sighed. “Too bad. Still, looks like you’re headed for a Med-Jack.”

I grinned. “Hope so!”  
Nick waved us all off. “Alright, shanks, back to work. Kiddo, you’re still spending the day as a Track-hoe, gotta try out everything.” I sighed reluctantly and returned to the gardens. “Have lots of fun?” Zart asked. I worried that he’d be angry with my dash from my chore, but he only seemed amused. 

I rolled my eyes sarcastically. “Loads of it.”  
“Good. Now, finish weeding that section. Then we’re picking tomatoes.” I squatted back down to the patch of weeds where I was before. Looking at it now, I’d actually gotten a lot done before the goat went running. I’d better stop doing so well, or else I might be chosen as a Track-hoe, and no offense to the gardeners, but I was really looking forward to being a Med-jack. 

“Don’t fret, greenie,” Zart chuckled, as if reading my mind. “If Clint wants ya as a Med-jack, I won’t argue.”

I smiled, and went back to doing good work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that was a bit short!


	8. Minder of the Gladers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gathering is held to decide Jo's role in the Glade. Does she get her wish to be a a Med-Jack? Does she get more than one role assigned to her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

My day with Frypan was uneventful. I turned out to be a pretty good cook, or at least I followed Fry’s directions well. But, I found it too tempting to be near all the food all day. Still, Fry and I got along well, and by the end of the day I felt like I had a brother. Fry was certainly someone to talk to if I ever needed a friend. He was real sassy, but not so much as Minho, of course. 

As a Bagger, I did fine, but it was boring work. I thought that maybe it’d be good, so no one would mess with me, but I wasn’t really helping out much. Guarding the place wasn’t that interesting when nothing happened. In fact, it seemed that the day I worked with the Baggers, I almost got more crude gestures from the Builders than I did when I was actually working with them. Besides, I didn’t want to have to deal with burying anyone. Billy and Frankie were nice enough, but not talkative enough to make the job worthwhile.

I wasn’t that good as a Slopper, not because I didn’t want to be, but because I kept tripping over buckets and tools. I was still clumsy when I wasn’t focused, and as a Slopper, I was hardly focused. 

“Sorry, sorry!” I apologized quickly, as I bumped into a bucket of wash water. It spilled all over, and everything that was folded out, dry, got soaked again.

“Shuck it, Jo, no one’s ever been bad at being a slopper!” Nick laughed. I turned around to see him sitting on a low tree branch, at the edge of the forest, where we were hanging the laundry. Apparently he’d seen the whole event. 

“Well, I guess that works in my favor then,” I sighed as I gathered the newly wet clothes. “Shuck, Nick, I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

He chuckled and kicked his feet. “I know. And, yeah, you look pretty uncomfortable with those.” He pointed at the underwear I was holding.

I wrinkled my nose. “A little.”

“Tomorrow’s the Gathering. I think you’re safe if you wanna be a Med-Jack. I’ve heard nothing but good things, ‘cept from Winston.”

I sniffed. “I don’t like the process of murdering chickens, even if I do enjoy eating them.” 

As it happened, Doug, Keeper of the Sloppers, was the only one other than Winston who didn’t want me. 

“Alright, shanks!” All the Keepers were sitting in a circle in the largest room of the Homestead. Nick called the ‘council’ to order, and had sat me down in between him and Alby. With ten Keepers, plus the two leaders, and me, there were thirteen filled chairs. “You’ve all had your say, and since our she-bean here is welcomed by almost all of you, I want the opinions of all of you on where you think she’d serve _best_. Don’t be selfish, I want honesty here.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Nicky boy, we all know she’d do best with Clint as a Med-Jack. Skip the dramatics and just appoint the girl.”

Clint grinned. “I mean, she was acting as a Medic before she was even out of the shucking Box.”

Everyone murmured their agreement, though some of the Keepers looked wistful. “Still could be a Builder,” Gally argued, but sighed immediately after. “Naw, you’re right, Newt, she’d be best playing nurse, and helping with the Greenies, too.”

Alby turned to our leader. “Nick, that’s not a bad idea. She was calm coming out of the Box, and being a girl and all, she could help the newbies calm down, too.”

Nick nodded his assent. “Jo, you’re the official Newbie greeter.”

“Babysitter,” Doug commented on the side.

“S’cuse me but I’m not a shucking babysitter,” I glared, putting my hands on my hips. “I don’t see any toddlers around here, do you?”

“Calm,” Gally warned, more at Doug, who had started to get up, than at me. “Greeter, not babysitter.”

“Hey Nick,” Frypan suggested, “why don’t we make her a part of all our Gatherings?”

Nick frowned. “She’s not a Keeper, Fry. Keepers only for Gatherings.”

Frypan tapped his fingers on his leg. “But she’s a girl, ya know. I think she’d have some good insight on things, or at least a different point of view.”

Gally snorted. “We have more than one Keeper, Fry. Means more than one point of view.”

“He’s got a point, Nicky,” Newt drawled. He cocked his head and looked at me, continuing, “A female viewpoint might be useful.”

Alby crossed his arms, but nodded curtly. “Not a Keeper, but involved in Gatherings.”

“So, basically a Keeper,” Gally retorted. “Ah, why not? You’ve got a pretty level head, Jo.”

“All in favor of making Jo a…what do we want to call her?” Nick asked. 

“Why don’t we combine the jobs and call her a ‘Minder’?” Newt suggested. The word sounded odd to me, but sounded like it was a part of his vernacular. “She’ll ‘mind’ the newbies, and give us her opinions. Minder.”

Nick shrugged his shoulders. “Works for me. Not like our other titles around here are normal. Alright, Jo, the Newbie, I officially make you Jo of the Med-Jacks, and Minder of the Gladers.”

Frypan made me a special cupcake that night.

“A ‘Minder?’” Minho asked, sitting across from me at dinner. “You get a special title just for being a girl?”

I kicked him lightly under the table. “I hardly think being the only one of my gender here is reason for being jealous.”

He took an unmannerly large bite of chicken. “Nevwer saihd I wawz,” he defended through his mouthful.

“Minho, haven’t we already gone over this?” I scolded. “You need to swallow before you start talking.”

He shrugged. “My bad.”

I shook my head at him, but smiled when Newt bumped against me playfully. “You’re a Med-Jack,” he smiled for the tenth time since the Gathering. For the tenth time, I felt my smile stretch into a wider, brighter grin. “Just so you know,” he added with mock-seriousness, “if I need mouth-to-mouth, I’d like to elect you as my medic.”

I started laughing, but he kept on a serious face. And he kept the serious face, despite my laughter, and the laughter of the boys at the table. “Newt,” I gasped, not able to get over his somber expression, “if you need CPR, I’ll do it,” I promised, still laughing. 

He nodded gravely. “I look forward to it.”

That got me into another laughing fit, but he never let his face slide out of its stoic mask, though I could see the amusement shining behind his eyes. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names from Wall of Names/TMR wiki. Boys are scientists.
> 
>  
> 
> Doug: David Douglass


	9. Hiding Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo enjoys her time as an official Med-Jack. When one of her patients tells her something startling about Grievers, what does she learn? What has Clint been keeping from her, and how can she learn the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

The next few days, nothing much happened, except for getting used to being a Med-Jack and being a Glader. I studied up on the pamphlets and posters we had in the Med-Jack room, and started reading key chapters in the Anatomy textbook. Clint had me practice emergency procedures on Jeff. I, seeing some clutter, made it my task for two days to reorganize the supplies into carefully selected cabinets. I had everything down to a system by the time I had my first patient. Clint had gone to see the Sloppers, but I knew Jeff hadn’t slept well, so I offered to stay behind in case anyone came in. An exhausted Med-Jack, especially one who’d been acting as a dummy for me the past few days, on top of sleepless nights, would be no help at all.

Still, Clint wanted someone with, as there were two people preferred for a stitching (a Slopper had cut open his upper leg), so I was by myself when Winston, Keeper of the Slicers, rushed in. 

“Hand, hand hand!” he shouted. I jumped up immediately, noting the red dripping from his left hand. Shuck, he looked in so much pain. He was breathing hard, his face was scrunched up…

Medic mode. I was in medic mode. This wasn’t Winston, in pain, this was a hand that needed cleaning and bandaging. Yes. 

I led him over to a cot and made him sit down. “Hold out your hand,” I commanded, and brought a bucket of water. I got a pewter pitcher, which had been sitting on the heating pad, and rinsed off the blood, letting it fall into an empty bowl below. Next I grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured some of it over the scratch I could now make out.

“Shuck!” he shouted, trying to yank his hand away.

“Hold still!” I hissed. After it was clean, I wrapped the wound, making sure a non-stick pad covered the cut. I didn’t want the blood sticking to the wrap. Thank goodness the Creators gave us suitable medical supplies, or we would have a lot more infections. “Done.” I sat back on my heels proudly. “No working for a few days. It needs to heal.”

“I can use my right hand.”  
“You can bark orders from a chair.”

He huffed. I stood and began cleaning up the mess. He observed the bandaging intently, as if expecting it to turn red, but it didn’t. I’d done well. 

“Ah, hey nursie, our Keeper of the Slicers get sliced?” I turned to see Clint coming in through the doorway, his med bag in hand. Jeff was behind him, peeking over his shoulder. He looked beat.

I glared. “I’m just as much of a med-jack as you, Clint, if you’re a doc, I’m a doc, not a nurse.”

“Good that,” he apologized.

“Clint, do I really gotta not work?” Winston whined. “I can use my right hand.” I rolled my eyes, because I knew that Winston always used both hands, as a Slicer.

Clint set down his med bag and put his hand on his hips. “The lady doc here say no work?” 

Winston nodded. 

Clint smiled. “Then no work. You could risk hurting yourself more, then you’ll be out for longer. Unless you _want_ to be out for longer? Though if you want that, I’d say just wrestle Gally and look manly about it.”

Winston shook his head frantically. “No! No, I’m not looking to get outta work, those shanks’ll mess up the system without me!” He started to get up, but tripped over the bowl I hadn’t gotten to yet.

“Hey, sit down, slinthead!” Clint scolded, glaring at the mess. “Slim it, I’m just making a point!”

Winston grumbled and sat down. “They don’t do things right,” he complained. 

I kneeled down in front of him, careful to avoid the water from the spilled bowl. “You trained those boys, ya?” I asked. He nodded, so I continued, “You’re a good Keeper, ya?” He shrugged. “Yes, you are. So, you train these boys right, they’re gonna take care of things for ya.” I stood and patted him on the shoulder. “Have a little faith in your teaching. You don’t trust them, means you don’t trust you. Trust yourself, Winston, that’s all you really can do.”

“I can’t trust my head,” he countered. He smacked his curly-haired head. “Shuck head can’t remember life before the glade, ya know.”

I sighed. “That’s the Creators, Winston. You are the person who has been in the Glade. Doesn’t matter about who you were before. Trust Glade-Winston, maybe then one day you’ll remember Pre-Glade-Winston and be proud of who he became.”

Zart came running in, interrupting my heartfelt talk with Winston. “Hey, need a Med-jack, now,” he panted. “Lee went and slipped in the manure, hit his head on a rock. Talking funny.”

Jeff was overly exhausted, I could tell. “Clint, you and me, lemme wash up,” I declared. I quickly cleaned up my hands from Winston’s accident, then Clint and I rushed to the Track-hoes. They were surrounding Lee, an asian boy with close-cropped hair, who was lying down on the ground near the edge of the gardens. 

“Lee, shank, look at me?” I asked. Clint handed me a flashlight, and I checked his pupils. “Eyes are fine, how’s your head?”

“Fuwzeee,” he muttered slowly. “Kinda thwrobbing.” He squinted at me. “There are two of you.”

I shared a glance with Clint. “Concussion,” I offered. “Needs bed rest, water. No sleep, though, not until he feels better. Couple of hours.” 

“Alright, shank, we’re gonna stand you up real nice and slow, good that?” Clint asked, directing the other boys to each side of the Lee. “On three, go slow. My count. One, two, three, and up.” 

Clint and Zart helped walk Lee to the med-jack hut, while I trailed behind carrying the med bag. Once we were inside, I helped him sit down. I’d just read up on the proceeds for a concussion yesterday. “Lee, you need to keep talking to us. Okay? You can’t take a nap for a few hours, at least, not until your head gets better.”

Lee moaned. “Hurts.”

I sat across from him. “It’ll get better. While we have the opportunity, why don’t we spend some time to get to know each other. I know that you’re a Trac-hoe, but I don’t know much else. Tell me.”

Clint puffed up proudly as Lee told me his story. I was doing well, distracting him from his headache. Lee spoke slowly, but I was patient, and genuinely interested. He’d been here a little over a year, and was around for the second leader, the one before Nick. Back then, Nick was the Second-in-Command, and Alby was Keeper of the Runners. Co-Keeper, actually, along with Newt. It was the only job with two Keepers, other than the leaders, but they didn’t really count, apparently. Lee had seen a Banishing only months after arriving, and had witnessed a quarrel that led to two boys’ deaths. He’d also seen two Gladers, one Runner and one Bagger who’d been trying to help, get Stung by a Griever.

This startled me.

I knew that you didn’t want to be in the Maze at night, because of the Grievers, but I didn’t think they could sting you during the day. 

“I think you’re good to go down for dinner,” Clint told Lee quickly. “Come see us again before bed, for another check-up.”

I hadn’t noticed the hours going by. The Doors had already closed for the night. Clint pulled me away from my patient gently, and I reluctantly let him. Lee went down for dinner, while I stood, calculating, where I was before. “What’s this about getting Stung?” I asked. It was more of an accusation than a question. Why hadn’t I been told before? I was, after all, an official Med-Jack.

“It’s nothing,” Clint said hurriedly, pushing me towards the door. 

I resisted, and faced him sternly. “No, it’s something, and I want to know what.”

“It’s not something to talk about now, okay?”

“Don’t brush it off!”

“I’m not! Just, not now, alright?”

We glared at each other until Newt’s accented voice broke my stare. “Clint? Jo? Everything alright here?” I glanced to my side to see my tall, blond friend standing in the doorway, hair still wet from the showers. 

“Fine, Newt,” Clint replied. “It’s just fine. Why don’t you and Jo head on down for dinner, hm?”

I gave one last glare to my dark-haired Keeper, who busied himself tidying up the cot Lee had been in. Newt took my hand and pulled me away. “Come on, love, off to dinner we go, eh?”

I let him lead me to the Kitchens, but I was hardly in the mood for conversation. I chewed on my food angrily, and luckily none of the boys pestered me about it. Probably because Newt gave them a death glare any time they tried.

I decided that a wash would be the best way to calm down, and Gally was at the door when I went to the Bathrooms for a shower. “Jo!” he smiled brightly. “Just the girl I wanted to see!”

I snorted. “I’m the _only_ girl you’re able to see.”

“Well then, I like my options. Come here, girlie,” he waved me to the door, opening it so I could see the inside without actually going in the small building. “Look here.” He tapped his finger on a small bolt that had been hammered into the wood. “Slide this across the door, and the door will stay shut. If someone tries to walk in on you, this’ll stop them and be a warning not to try to force the door.”

I grinned enthusiastically. “Thanks, Gally!” Now I could shower without having to ask anyone to stand guard. What a relief! I already felt much better than I had a few minutes ago, and when I stepped under the shower, I sighed in relief. The warm water felt heavenly against my soiled skin. I washed the grime out of my hair, and gave it a long brushing afterwards. When I finally made it to Newt’s and my room, I was in much better spirits, though still suspicious about what being Stung was.

“Newt?” We both had laid down on our mattresses, but I could tell he was still awake, as I was.

“Hmm?”

“Has anyone ever been Stung by a Griever?”

I heard a sharp intake of breath. I, of course, knew from Lee’s story that someone had, in fact, been Stung, but asking Newt about it this way may give me more information. “How do you know about that?”

“Lee told me.”

Newt sat up and flicked on the dim light in the room. I still had no idea how there was electricity to this place, but, like for the running water, I was grateful. He sat cross-legged on his bed, running his fingers through his hair. “Ah, love, I shouldn’t be telling you about that.”

I sat up, too. “I’m a Med-Jack,” I reminded him. “I need to know.”

He sighed heavily. “Goodness knows I can’t keep anything from you anyways. Alright, I’ll tell you a bit, but there’s more information in the Med-Jack hut than I’ll ever know.” I waited patiently until he continued. “Love, the Grievers only come out at night, yeah?” I nodded. “Well, sometimes, the lines between day and night get fuzzy. Dawn. Dusk. Sometimes, a Griever can get a Runner then. Sometimes, they don’t make it back. Those metal spikes on the buggers? They can Sting you. And as far as we know, if you get Stung, you die.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names from Wall of Names/TMR wiki. Boys are scientists.
> 
> Lee: Tsang Dao Lee


	10. Requesting Serum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Jo come up with as a way to save someone who's been Stung?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

 

The next morning I skipped breakfast and went straight to the Med-Jack hut. Newt told me that Clint had kept notes regarding anyone who had been Stung, so I quickly scoured the place for said notes.

I looked all over, but found nothing, at least until I opened a messy drawer, with scraps of papers and folders cluttered in an unorganized chaos. On top, I noticed a folder of papers, open to show messy handwriting and hastily sketched drawings, which I took out and set on the counter. I flipped the folder closed to see it labeled as “Stung.”

Stung?

I scanned the papers again. They looked like notes, but they didn’t look complete, because at the bottom of all pages but the first, was “death.” 

Death?

“Jo? Whatcha looking at?” Jeff asked from behind me. I didn't hear him come in.

I half-turned towards him, pointing at the folder accusingly. “What is this?”

He set down his med bag and strode over to me. When he saw what I was pointing at, he paled. “That’s our notes. Mine and Clint’s. For when a Glader…for when someone gets Stung by a Griever.” He looked solemn, mournful even.

“All these boys,” I frowned, glancing over the handwriting once more, “they died?” Newt had said that, but I had wanted so badly to believe he was wrong.

He nodded sadly, running his hands through his black, curly locks. “We don’t know if it was from the Sting or not. See, they all had other injuries, too. Serious ones. One poor shank had his neck slit, so the sting didn’t matter. Another, he had his leg sliced off, and he lost too much blood before he got back to the Glade. One seemed like the Sting killed him, but not sure. Other one, he was never found, so…”

“So he died in the Maze,” Clint said from the doorway. He too set down his med bag and came over to Jeff and me, the picture of melancholy. “Get stung by a Griever? You’re done for. I mean, they usually only come out at night, but if it’s close to when the doors close, or early in the morning, they sometimes linger.”

I suddenly felt very cold. “Is there an antidote? For the sting, I mean?”

Both boys shook their heads. “Nothing we have works. None of our books have information.”

I sat down on a cot, staring at the sketches. “How do we help them if they get stung?”

Jeff shrugged sadly. “We don’t.”

We don’t? No, I thought, we had to. It was our job. “Did you ever ask?”

“What?” they boys asked in unison.

“Well,” I reasoned, “the Creators give us what we ask for, right? Did you ever ask for an antidote? I mean, if they created the Grievers, then they must have an antidote to the venom.”

Clint’s mouth hung slightly ajar. Jeff’s brows knitted together, as if he were thinking very hard. “Uh…” Jeff began. “I, uh…I don’t think we thought of that.” He glanced at Clint. “Have we thought of that?”

Clint shook his head. “I didn’t.”

I glared. They’d never used the single resource we had here? Never asked the shanks who put us here for help? “Boys never ask for directions, never ask for help, I would have thought that _Med-Jacks_ would have thought to ask for medicine.” I snatched a scrap of paper and scribbled a request on it. The Box would be coming up in a few days, with supplies. It wouldn’t be Greenie Day for another week, but hopefully the supplies would include some antidote for a Griever Sting. 

“I’m bringing this down to the Box,” I told them with a barely controlled temper. For some reason, the fact that they hadn’t thought to ask for an antidote was infuriating. I thought of Newt, and what could happen if he was Stung and there was no way to save him.

I mean, any of the Runners could be put in that situation. Not just Newt. But I was most concerned with Newt, since he was my, friend and all. Well, all the Gladers were my friends. Kinda. 

I shook myself out of my confusing conversation. With myself. None of that mattered right now, what mattered was if the Creators would answer my request in a timely fashion.

 

—

Clint and Jeff ended up telling me all they knew about being Stung. The only Glader who hand’t died from another injury or disappeared, died in the Maze during the day. Alby and Newt had found the body near the end of the day, and dragged it back just before the Doors closed. It was devastating, and a huge blow not only for the Gladers in general, but especially Newt. He’d been the dead boy’s mentor and friend, the one who’d helped him become a Runner. 

I was angry at the Creators, for making all of this happen.

I sat under a tree at lunch, eating an apple by myself. I needed time to think, time to sort out my thoughts. I wondered if I would ever regain my memories, if I would ever know my family or my previous life. I wondered if I had a home. I wondered if my parents were alive, if I had siblings, if I had a pet. 

I wondered why we were here. I didn’t wonder too hard, since Nick had warned me that that only brought heartache and sorrow.

But mostly I wondered if there was another girl on the way. Why were there no girls before me? Why was I the first, and so far, the only? 

I was startled out of my musings by a clicking by my ear. I launched away from the tree, freaking out, my eyes darting all over the trunk in search of the source of the odd noise. There, crawling across the low branch, was a tiny bug. Somehow it looked different from other bugs. Peering closer, I was shocked to see that it was mechanical. Small, painted with the letters W.I.C.K.E.D. on it, and giving off a small red glow. 

W.I.C.K.E.D. Hadn’t I seen that before?

“Beetle Blades,” Alby said from behind me. I turned to see him standing nearby, holding a sandwich. His dark skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, and I could guess that he had been helping the Builders haul wood for my bathroom building. He nodded at the mechanical insect. “How the Creators watch us.”

I was startled. “Like, cameras?”

“Small ones.”

“What’s W.I.C.K.E.D.?”

“Don’t know. But it’s printed on all of our supplies, so it must be whatever the Creators work for. No idea what they stand for, and don’t waste your time trying to figure it out.”

The little bug crawled away, up into the trees. “Are there many of the beetle blades?”

He shrugged. “Enough. They know everything that goes on, somehow.”

“Great,” I sighed. “They spy on us. Why should I be surprised?”

He chuckled and patted my shoulder. “Nothing should surprise you now, she-bean.”

As he left, I got back to wondering. Wondered what was the point of all of this, this Glade, this Maze. Was it to test our ability to get along? To survive? 

If it was a test of survival, even a test against the Grievers, it was my job to be prepared. I was a medic, or as close to one as we had here, and I needed to make sure that anyone that got hurt or sick could be saved. A Sting needed to be cured. 

I ran through my long hair, playing with the brown strands and admiring the way they glinted in the sun. I kept it in a braid a lot, to stay out of my way. Now, it was a distraction. Taking out and re-braiding my hair got me into a steady rhythm, so even as my mind was racing, I could reorganize it and keep my hands steady and sure as my fingers twisted the strands into braids. 

I needed something sure and steady. I also needed an antidote to the Sting. Which by all accounts, was not sure, or steady, or in any way reliable.

Grumbling, I glared at the Beetle Blades.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was such a short chapter! But the next ones are getting longer :)


	11. Only a Shucking Towel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Builders—or one in particular—play a joke on Jo. But she's not laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

“Jo?” Jeff stared at me in disbelief. “What…what happened?”

I shuffled into the Med-Jack room defeatedly. “I went to check on Lee. Since, you know, the concussion and all. But, I kinda tripped on that shucking shovel, and…well, you can see what I landed in.” 

He burst out laughing.

The rest of yesterday had been uneventful. I’d been tired from restless sleep, thinking about the antidote, and I was stressed, also over the antidote. I could feel anger brewing up, and thought that if I hadn’t been on the pills the Creators sent, this would definitely be that time of the month. I was frustrated when there was work, and frustrated when I was bored. 

All day, no one needed a Med-Jack, so we kept an eye on Lee. Today was a new day, and after lunch it was still not busy, so I wandered down to the Track-Hoes to check up on him again. Me, being unfocused after I’d seen my patient was doing fine, had stumbled over Zart’s shovel, the one that had wounded me in the Box, and fell face-first into a pile of fertilizer. 

Which, in other words, was cow manure.

I was covered in it, and I smelled, and I could only make it back to the Med-Jack hut to let the boys know where I would be for the next hour. 

“Go on,” Clint chuckled. “Go shower off, you reek of the cow pens.”

I grumbled in reply, more embarrassed than frustrated. I fetched new clothes from my room and headed off, hoping to meet no one else along the way, but no such luck. Instead of an empty bathroom, I was met with the entire grouping of Builders. The Bricknicks were working on the building that would become my bathroom, but for now, Gally was here, working on this one.

“Sinks are broke,” Gally explained, not looking up. “Got to fix them, but since the showers are separate, you can just go on in. We’ve got a screen up, since there’s no door in there.”

I frowned. “Um…where do I keep my clothes? They’ll get wet in there.”

He shrugged. “Just throw them out on the bench when you undress.” I noticed him scrunch up his nose, and then he finally looked up. Seeing me, covered in mess, caused him to burst out laughing. “Girlie, what the shuck did you do?”

I felt a smile tug at the corner of my lips, but I was still embarrassed enough to not laugh out loud. “Tripped into the fertilizer.”

He laughed harder. “Ah, Jo. You poor shank. Go on, wash off. No one will bother you.”

I was uneasy, but decided I was just overthinking it. The ‘screen’ was a thin slab of wood, big enough to cover the doorway. It just leaned against the doorframe, so I could just reach my arm past the side and hide by the wall to make sure I wasn’t seen. My clothes would be right outside the shower room, all I had to do was reach past the side of the screen and get them. Besides, I was too dirty to really have a choice right now. 

Once I was in the shower room, I pulled the wood over the doorframe, making sure I wasn’t able to be seen through any cracks. I undressed, then shoved my folded-up clothes past the side, making sure they didn’t soil the clean ones I had under the towel.

I turned on the shower and sighed gratefully as the water rinsed the muck from my skin.

“Girlie, I’m off to get another wrench,” Gally called from the other side of the wood. “We’re working in here and the pipes outside, and it’s a bit of a mess out here, so watch your step.”

“Good that!”

It took a while to wash off all the manure, but it was worth it. Once I was sure my hair was rinsed and my fingernails were no longer caked with dirt or dung, I decided it was time to be done. Someone else could be waiting for the shower, and whenever I was in it, they had to just wait until I was done. 

However, when I reached my arm out, my clothes were gone.

“Hey, um…guys? Did you move my stuff?” I asked hesitantly. 

No answer.

Cautiously, I poked my head through the opening, only to find that no one was in there. I was alone.

Alone and without clothes. 

 

— 

 

I was furious. No Builders anywhere, tools and pipes strewn across the floor, and my clothes were gone. The door into the bathroom was closed, so I chanced stepping from behind the wood screen into the first room in search of anything to cover myself with. 

“Aha!” I grinned. I found a towel, forgotten under another bench. It was clean, somehow, and I was thankful. I quickly wrapped it around myself, covering my torso and upper thighs, and then dripping I peeked out of the bathroom.

No one was around, no Builders, no Gally, no Ben. 

“Hey, can I get some help over here?” I called out, not too loud. I didn’t want _everyone_ to hear.

No one heard me.

“Um…Anyone? Some help?”

There were Gladers at work, some in the gardens, some with the animals, but no one seemed to notice me. I wasn’t about to shout and draw attention to myself, but I also wasn’t going to wait around for a builder, even Gally or Ben, to come round and find me. Other than Gally and Ben, I was sure one of the Builders had been the one to take my clothes, so…definitely not waiting around. 

I’d have to just calmly walk over to the Homestead and fetch new clothes. Of course, by then, I’d have dirty feet, which meant I’d need to wash them again, which meant I’d need to go back to the showers, and since the sinks were broke I’d need to get in the shower room again, which meant…

“Shucking boys,” I grumbled before starting off for the Homestead. As I walked, I got more frustrated. I’d made it about halfway there without being noticed when I heard Alby come up behind me.

“Jo, what the shuck are you wearing?”

I kept walking, and he walked with me. “A shucking towel, because some shucking Builders snatched my shucking clothes while I was in the shucking shower,” I explained angrily. “So now I have nothing to put on, and I’m not in the mood to chase them around the Glade, screaming at them to give me my clothes back, and I’m not gonna just sit in the shower waiting for someone to come in and find me completely at their mercy.”

“Builder? Who?”

“Does it look like I shucking know?” I stopped walking and faced him. “Boys are stupid and immature,” I huffed, glaring at him. “Present company excluded. Plus some others,” I added thinking of Newt, and my friends. 

“She-bean…I’ll find whoever took your clothes. Let’s just get you back to the Homestead without a fuss, good that?”

I nodded and continued walking. He trailed behind me, but soon Minho and Newt came jogging up. Must have called an early day, it was at least another two hours before the Doors closed. 

“Jo, why are you wearing a towel?” Minho asked with his head cocked to the side. “It doesn't really cover you all that much, ya know.”

I glared. “Covers me more than what I was left to wear. Which was, by the way, nothing.”

“What?”

Now all four of us were walking to the Homestead, and I really hoped no one else would notice, because I really didn’t want to make this into a scene. I caused enough drama—well, the boys caused drama that revolved around me—and I really was not in the mood. Too tired, too stressed, and now, too ticked off.

“Builders, Minho, Builders like to play jokes on me. Like today. Just stole my clothes while I was in the shower.” 

“Who? I’ll shucking—”

“No you won’t,” Alby warned. “Nick and I’ll deal with it.” This time, I agreed with him. No fights, no threats. Just order. Order and clothes and a nap.

We got to the entrance to the homestead. Minho waited outside, talking with Alby, while Newt followed me up. 

“Any idea who it was?” he asked as we climbed the stairs. He was angry, I could tell, but he acted calm and hid it well.

“Not Ben or Gally, other than them it could have been any of the Builders, I guess.” I got to our room. “I’ll be out in a sec,” I promised before slipping through the door. 

I went to my drawers to get out some fresh clothes, but when I opened the drawer, it was empty. “No,” I muttered. Quickly I searched the other drawers, and scanned the room, but it was only Newt’s clothes in here. “Newt, you didn’t move my stuff, did you?”

“No,” came his puzzled reply from the other side of the door. “Why?”

I groaned. Pulling my towel tighter, I went over and opened the door. “Can I borrow some of your clothes? A shirt, at least?”

He scowled. “Those bloody shanks got in here and stole your clothes?” At my nod, he growled. “Yes, of course you can borrow some clothes.” He pushed into the room. “Here,” he said, pulling me out a big, dark t-shirt. “It’s pretty loose, you’ll want that, I’m guessing they left you without underclothes?” I nodded again. “Dunno what to give you for bottoms, love, you can wear my comfy pants but they’re gonna be real big on you.” He handed me a pair of his pajama pants. At least they had ties. 

“Thanks, Newt.”

He nodded curtly. “I’ll wait outside,” he said, then exited the room. I quickly pulled his shirt over my head—it smelled like him—and noticed that, like the shirt I wore to sleep in, it covered my upper thighs. It was loose enough not to stick to my chest, though I felt uncomfortable without having a bra on, knowing I wasn’t going to just be staying in the privacy of my own room. The pants were way too big for me, they puddled up on the floor, and I wasn’t sure if I should even wear them. “How does everything fit, love?”

I opened the door with a grimace. “Not that great, but it’ll have to do.”

He chuckled. “You’re so short, Jo, those pants are gonna trip you.”

I smiled a bit, too. “Got any shorts?”

“Uh…Runner’s ones. They’re a bit snug, if you know what I mean.”

“Sure.”

The shorts were spandex, but they covered more of me than the shirt. Sure, they were form-fitting, but at least they proved I had on something under the shirt. I wanted to show as little of my body as possible—no bra meant I would be holding my arms in front of my chest until we found one. 

“I won’t even bother with shoes,” I sighed, emerging once more. “Let’s just go explain things to Nick, he can sort it all out.”

We went downstairs to find Minho waiting, leaned up against the wall of the Homestead. “Alby went off to find Gally, he’ll talk to the Builders. Nick already knows, saw you in the towel, Alby and I explained.” He noticed what I was wearing and grinned. “Nice shorts.”

I blushed. “Well, ya know—take what ya can.”

“Hey, Runner’s shorts are the best. Nice and comfy up there,” he suggested playfully. I shoved his shoulder gently, laughing with him. 

“Not much help for me, shank. Shirt’s nice and loose though, I’d say it’s even better.”

“Right then, now that you’re all decked out in Newtfashion, let’s go see our two lovely leaders.” Minho walked us back over to the showers, where the Builders had suddenly reappeared. Nick and Alby were there, talking off to the side to Gally. Suddenly he gave a shout and turned on his workers, swearing at them.

“You slintheads did _what_?” They all looked up, but Ben was the only one to really look surprised. Justin saw me and went all innocent and smiles. 

“What, you didn’t think we did it, Gal?”

Alby rounded on him. “Oh, how do you know what it is we were talking about?”

Justin smirked. “Well look at her. She’s not wearing her own clothes, she’s dripping…must’ve lost something.” 

“Lost something?” I glared. “Where did you put them, ya shuck face?" 

“Put what, babe?”

I wanted to yell at him, but instead I bit down hard on my lip and crossed my arms, determined not to lose it and spend a night in the Slammer. 

“Jo, why aren’t you wearing your own extra clothes?” Nick asked.

I didn’t say a word. Newt saw me struggling to stay calm and answered for me. “Everything’s gone. Didn’t even leave her underwear.”

Gally strode up to Justin and grabbed him by his collar, shouting, “Justin you stupid shank you’ve caused enough trouble for that girl! Now give her her shuck clothes back, or I’ll pound ya, I don’t care about a night in the Slammer.”

Justin tried pointlessly to get out of Gally’s grip. “Why are you blaming me?” he screeched, swatting at his Keeper’s face. Gally simply grabbed his hands and Justin, despite being probably as strong as Gally, was defeated. 

“Justin,” Nick warned, “if you hid them, you’d better fess up now, or I’ll throw you in the Slammer, guilty or not.”

Justin’s eyes widened in surprise. “How is that fair? How is that ‘Order’?”

Gally shook Justin by the neck. “It’s Order because it keeps you out of trouble. Now, are ya gonna talk, or am I gonna see how my fists like your face?”

“Gal,” Nick warned his friend, but Gally was already bringing his fist down on Justin, who now had free hands to shield himself with.

“Alright, alright, they’re in my hammock!” 

Gally smirked and released his hold on Justin. I realized that the punching was just a threat—even Gally knew not to fight right in front of our two leaders. “There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Justin rubbed at his neck frustratedly. “It was just a joke. Shuck, you didn’t have to be so rough.”

Gally grabbed Justin by the collar again, and looked him right in the eye. “If you do anything stupid like this again, I _will_ use you as a punching bag.”

I felt Newt’s hand on my shoulder. “Come on, love, let’s get your clothes and get you dressed, eh?”

I gave Justin one more fierce glare before letting Newt lead me away. My clothes were right where we were told they were, and I scooped them up immediately. Newt walked me back to our room, careful to steer me away from where Nick, Gally, and Alby were talking with Justin. Those three weren’t quite at shouting, but Justin was. He started yelling about me, something I couldn’t make out, and Gally decked him.

“Come on, love,” Newt said again, pulling me away when I rushed to investigate. “I’ll bring you some dinner, eh? And a warm cloth, to wash off those messy feet?”

I agreed. Once I was settled in our room, I noticed how dirty and grassy my feet had become from walking around the Glade barefoot. Newt left to fetch food, but I had grumbled myself to sleep by the time he got back. 

When I woke up the next morning, my feet were clean, and the eggs and bacon for my breakfast were laid out in a smiley face. The door was just closing.

I smiled softly into my pillow before falling back to sleep for a few more minutes. I was still in the dark t-shirt Newt had let me borrow after the shower incident, and it smelled more strongly of him than the one I normally wore to bed. 

I quite liked his scent.

In fact, I quite liked Newt.


	12. Stung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo's request for serum is unanswered. When a Runner gets Stung, will there be any help? Or will he perish as those before him did?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

The next days passed easily. I was still waiting on the Box to come up with my antidote, but the day drew nearer. In the meantime, I read up on Anatomy and helped Clint and Jeff beat the dust out of the Med-Jack hut cots. We rewrote the labels on the odd bottles of medicine. We had the Sloppers wash the sheets. We made sure all of our tools were clean and ready for use.

I liked spending time with them. Clint was talkative, Jeff at first, not so much. But once I got him talking, he wouldn’t shut up, even when Clint tried putting in his say. I smiled proudly to myself, noting that I’d successfully become his friend. 

Since we weren’t busy, I also spent time with the other Gladers, when they got breaks. Gally was still quite protective of me, and made sure Justin kept his distance. Ben was protective, too, and I very much liked his humor and kindness. 

When the supply day came, I was outside a lot, waiting for the Box to come up. The sun had just got over the tops of the East Doors, and finally illuminated all of the Glade. Some Gladers were still eating breakfast, but I’d been up for over an hour, as was the norm. Newt and just left an hour before—I mean, all the Runners did—and I was busying myself sewing up a hole in one of the Emergency Med bags. I was getting pretty good at keeping the stitches tight, and I couldn’t be distracted.

Except by a commotion at the South Doors, where most of the Runners had disappeared through this morning. Ten or so Gladers gathered there, and I threw aside my work the moment I heard a call. 

“Med-Jack!” 

I took off at a sprint, running as fast as I could to the group of boys. Nick and Stephen, whose leg had healed and who was now back to Running, were helping haul another Runner through, and as I pushed through the Gladers, I could see why.

There was a bloody red gash in his right thigh. 

I went to kneel down next to him, but Alby pulled me back, and Nick and Stephen carried the Runner—Aidan, I remembered—right past me, towards the Homestead. “Hey!” I scolded Alby. “I’m a Med-Jack!”

Alby shook his head. “Can’t help him, she-bean.”

I tried to rush after Aidan, but Alby held me back again. I yanked away from his arm, frustratedly demanding, “What happened to him?”

“He’s been Stung,” Alby told me in disbelief. “Must’ve been about an hour ago, right when he got out.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “But we haven’t got the supplies yet.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “What supplies?”

I sprinted to the Box, ignoring his continuous questions. There were no sounds yet, though there had been enough time for the supplies to come up. After all, it wasn’t Greenie day, just a regular supplies delivery. I stood at the edge of the metal doors, glaring at the sky. “Come on!” I shouted, hoping the Creators would hear me, or at least one of those Beetle Blades I’d seen around would. “I asked for an antidote. I need it, now! If you want that boy to live, send up medicine, now!” 

After a few tense moments, the lights started flashing, and I heard creaking below me.

The supplies were coming up.

—

It was agony to wait. Alby sprinted over to me, demanding an explanation, but my mind was racing. 

I needed a plan.

I needed to get in the Box, find the antidote, get to the Homestead, and get to Aidan in the Med-Jack room. I didn’t know if the medicine was liquid, or a pill, or if it was taken orally, or if I had to inject it. I just hoped there would be simple directions that I could read as I ran.

Alby shook my by the shoulders. “Joan, tell me what you’re expecting to be in that Box!” 

I could hear the crate getting closer. Closer, but still not here. “An antidote!” I pushed him off and kneeled down, trying to see how much longer I had to wait.

“An antidote? What the shuck you talking about?”  
The crate screeched to a halt. I threw open the metal doors and jumped in, yelling up at Alby as I scanned the darkness for any hint of medicine. “I asked for an antidote to a Griever Sting! It has to be here, Alby, help me look! Aidan needs it!”

He jumped in and did as I asked. I was searching quickly, but a strange calm came over me. I wasn’t panicking. I had a goal in mind, I had a plan. All that was needed now was to carry it out. Step by step. One, find the antidote. Two, get to the hut. Three, administer medicine.

Just focus on Step One. Right now, Step One, find the antidote. 

Where was it?

There. 

I saw a box, one that matched the storage boxes we had in the Med-Jack hut. I tore the top of it off to find about ten vials of a blueish liquid, and two syringes. One was empty, ready to be used by one of the waiting vials, but the other one was already filled and prepared, the needle covered by a sanitary top.

For Aidan.

I rushed to the side of the Box and placed the box on the ground above. “Alby help me up!”

He was by me in a second, lifting me up and out of the crate. I stood, shoved the box under my arm, and sprinted as fast as I could to the Homestead. Alby could get out of the Box himself. Me? I needed to complete Step Two. 

Get to the Med-Jack Hut, as fast as I possibly could. 

I was in the room before I even knew it. Clint was standing over Aidan, who was on a cot, shuddering and twitching. I could see his pain, but that wasn’t my main concern anymore. My concern was injecting the antidote into his—his arm? His leg? 

There were no instructions, but I decided that the antidote probably needed to go into a vein. “Hold his arm!” I told Clint. He turned at me, shocked and confused, but once he saw the syringe in my hand—I discarded the box on a nearby cot—he immediately did as I asked. It took some effort, given Aidan’s flailing, but Jeff helped hold down the rest of Aidan, and between the two of them, Aidan was steady enough for me to get close.

He lashed out suddenly, and I almost dropped the syringe. “Keep him down!” Clint put all his strength into keeping Aidan’s arm ready, and I could approach again.

Calmly, carefully, I injected the blueish medicine into a vein in his arm. 

Within seconds, Aidan stopped moving.

Jeff moved off of him. Clint let go of his arm. I took out the needle and stepped back.

Nick and Stephen, who I hadn’t really noticed until now, stepped in closer to see what had happened. As we watched, Aidan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell unconscious. Luckily, he was still breathing.

My gaze fell to the empty syringe in my hand. I didn't even know what I’d given him. Then again, as far as I knew, whatever I’d done couldn’t be much worse than what had happened to the other Gladers who’s been Stung.

“Jo?” I glanced up at Clint, who was staring, almost scared, at the syringe in my hand. “What was that?”

I looked back at it, my thoughts starting to question my actions, and answered honestly. “I have absolutely no idea.”

**—**

“You have no idea?” Stephen echoed. “What if it kills him?”

I turned to face the Runner. He was pale, and still breathing hard. How far had he carried Aidan? “Well, he’d be dead without it anyways, wouldn’t he?” I went to the box the syringe came from. “I asked the Creators for an antidote to a Griever Sting. This is it.” I poked through the contents, and added, “No instructions. No information. Just, syringes and vials.”

Clint took a vial in hand and held it up to the light. “Blue?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Will it heal the Sting, then?” Stephen asked, peeking over my shoulder to inspect the medicine. 

I set it back in the box and moved to sit across my new patient. “I hope so, Stephen. I dearly hope so.”

“Well, when will we know?” He came and sat next to me, as Jeff joined Clint in looking through the vials. 

“I—”

Suddenly Aidan’s hands were around my throat, pulling me towards him and choking the breath out of me. 

Stephen and Nick were on him just as fast, prying his fingers from my throat as I tried to push off of him. His eyes were wild, his breathing was ragged, and his expression—it frightened me.

“Aidan let go!” Stephen shouted, as I became more and more desperate for oxygen. My lungs were bursting, I needed air, now, why wouldn’t he let go, what was wrong with him, why—?

Then I was free, Nick pulled me away, and Aidan was limp on the cot. It was as if what had just happened….hadn’t happened. I could have imagined it all, except for the burning in my lungs and the throb around my neck.

“What the shuck was that?” Stephen demanded. 

“No idea,” Clint murmured, taking my place across from Aidan, as Nick led me a few steps further. 

“Kiddo you alright?” He sat me down on another cot, but the sun streaming through the window blinded me, and I wanted to move. I wanted to be next to Aidan, despite his attack. Somehow I knew it wasn’t his fault. 

“What the shuck?!” Clint cried out. Stephen jumped away from Aidan’s lifeless form, and Jeff stepped closer to get a better look. I did the same, but what I saw was probably the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

Aidan was still breathing, still alive, but his skin was rapidly turning green. His veins got more visible, started to bulge, and were just as quickly turning a deep shade of purple. He started moving around, arms lashing out at random times, as were his legs. 

“Tie him down,” I commanded. Jeff grabbed some gauze—we had no ropes in there—and tossed Clint and I each a roll. We quickly tied down Aidan’s wrists and ankles, then, when he started involuntarily jerking about from pain, we tied down his waist as well. Not too tight so that the blood flow was cut off, but enough to keep him from hurting himself. Or any of us. I felt helpless as he writhed in obvious agony, and wanted to hide when he began screaming.

Clint looked at me beseechingly, but I had no answers for him. I knew, he wanted to know what this ‘antidote’ was doing, what would happen, but I didn’t know. All we could do now, was wait.

“I want two of you here at all times,” Nick commanded. We all nodded. 

“We’ll take shifts,” I suggested. “Clint, you and me, then Jeff will take your place and you can sleep.” I took a seat on the cot opposite Aidan. “We’ll put anything that happens in that notebook. We need to record what the medicine does.”

Nick sat next to me and rubbed his nose. “Shuck. What is that stuff? I mean, I know you don’t know, but…what is it even called?”

I stared at Aidan. His agony, it was almost unbearable to watch. “I don’t know, Nick.” Aidan let out a bloodcurdling scream, and we all had to cover our ears. “He’s in so much pain. How did this happen, anyways? I mean, what the shuck was the reason for all this grief?”

Nick looked sideways at me. “Grief. That’s all those monsters cause. Didn’t I ever explain why we call them Grievers?” At my head shaking no, he told me. “The sounds they make at night, the wailing? It always sounded so mournful. Like they were grieving. Then, whenever one of them would Sting and kill a Glader, we’d be the ones grieving. Thus, we call them Grievers.” He put his face in his hands. “Now we have this mess.”

My chest tightened as Aidan shrieked again. Unexpectedly, his eyes flashed open, unseeing, and he muttered incomprehensibly. Mutters turned to screams, and he pleaded for someone to stop, to save a mysterious ‘them,’ to let him say goodbye. His eyes closed again, but what shocked me the most was the sudden stream of tears that appeared on his cheeks. I didn't know how to help him, or ease his pain without countering the medicine, if that’s what this serum was.

Serum.

Serum that worked as an antidote to Griever Stings, yet still caused so much agony. So much grief. 

“Grief Serum,” I thought aloud. 

Nick raised his head. “What?”

“Grief Serum,” I announced, more confidently. “That’s what we’ll call it.”

Aidan shrieked, and didn’t stop for three hours, until his cries were hoarse and he tired himself out.

I wished I could pull him out of whatever hellish nightmares haunted his sleep, but all I could do was try to help his body fight whatever poison it was that was causing this horrible grief.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names come from TMR wiki or the Wall of Names.
> 
> Aidan: Wall of names. 'Aidan' on the Wall was probably dedicated to actor Aidan Gillen. Let's say our Aidan was named for a scientist in the future.


	13. The Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan makes it through the Changing alive—but at what cost? Jo is asked to keep a secret. From the Keepers. From Newt. 
> 
> Later, she is finally given her own room...away from Newt...Does she like it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> warning: minor attempted assault.

 

I didn’t sleep for over a day.

I stayed by Aidan’s side all the rest of that afternoon, then through the night. Newt came in to see me, and I must have explained what had happened, but I was in a trance and didn’t notice much other than the boy on the cot in front of me.

I kept notes on his condition, making sure to record the times and the exact details of any changes. I thought that someone brought me food, but I didn’t eat it. Instead, I spoon-fed Aidan when he was calmer, and tried to soothe him when he writhed about. I wanted to be with him until he was better, if he got better, because in some way, this was my fault. 

I only hoped he lived.

Someone must have told me what had happened, because at one point I caught myself running through what had happened to the Runner. He left with Stephen to map a certain section of the Maze, but they broke off into singles to Run more of it. Stephen heard a scream and sprinted to where it was, only to find his friend twitching on the Maze floor. Griever slime led away from Aidan, and it was obvious that he’d been Stung. Stephen half-dragged, half-carried the poor boy back, and he and Nick carried Aidan up to the Med-Jack hut, pondering what to do until I came in with the supposed antidote. 

I was yet doubting its effectiveness.

At one point, Clint had me lie down on the cot I’d been sitting on, and I must have slept. When I woke, I took up my vigil again, oblivious to the other Runners who came in, or the other Gladers that were shooed out by Nick or Alby, the latter who’d taken up guard outside the door. I remembered having ordered that no one but the Runners and Keepers see what was happening, and, as a rule from then on, if this ever happened again, no Newbies could see it either. Couldn’t see it, and weren’t told about it until after a month, just to keep them from freaking out. Someone, probably Gally, had pointed out that I was a Newbie myself, and it was only short of a month of my being here. 

I told him to shut his face and go chop some wood.

On the third day of Aidan’s illness, I realized that his skin was much less green than the night before. In fact, as the light outside got brighter, his skin got clearer. His veins faded and returned to their normal size and color, and his actions became less erratic.

I made sure to record that.

Clint came in with some breakfast, having been the one to sleep that night, and almost dropped the plates in surprise. 

Good, I wasn’t seeing things.

He set down the food and shook Jeff awake. We all marveled over the improvement in our patient, and Clint, no longer interested in breakfast, went to fetch Nick. The pair was back in a flash, breathing hard from their apparent sprint. “Look,” Clint pointed. “His skin’s normal.”

Nick stepped closer. “It worked?”

I nodded affirmation. “He’s been through hell, but yes. I think it worked.”

We all sat there for hours, celebrating Aidan’s recovery, but I was quiet while they smiled and slapped each other on the back. Something was still not quite right, and I wanted to know what it was.

I was the only one paying attention when Aidan woke up.

At first, his eyes were blank. Then, I watched as realization dawned on him, and then some horrible sorrow set in, then disbelief. A tear rolled down the side of his face, but when he want to wipe it away, he found that his hands were bound.

I wiped it away for him, before the others saw, and his eyes met mine. “Aidan?” I asked gently. “Aidan, how do you feel?” He just stared into my eyes, trying to communicate the sorrows I saw. I decided that I could unite him, and I did. He sat up slowly, groaning from the effort, but I helped him steady himself. The other boys had noticed what was going on by now, and Jeff got Aidan a glass of water. Only after swallowing did our patient finally speak.

“How am I alive?”

I answered him carefully. “You got Stung, but we got an antidote. Grief Serum, as we call it. You were pretty sick for a while, but you’re better now.”

Clint patted Aidan’s shoulder. “You’re back to normal now, lucky shank. First one to survive a Sting.”

I glared at my Keeper. Did he have to be so insensitive? Aidan looked startled, and told me darkly, “I’m not back to normal. I feel…I feel like I’ve just gone through some awful changing. Everything feels different. Everything….” He shook his head. “Nightmares. I had such awful nightmares, and I can’t help but feel like I’ll never be the same again.”

As I took in his broken spirit, I couldn’t help but think he was right. 

—

“So, what, this Grief Serum, it counters the Griever’s poison, but it makes us go through some type of changing?”  
Gally was speaking. Nick had called a Gathering, and as the Minder, I was invited. Plus, I’d been the one to request and administer the Serum, and I’d been the one up with Aidan the most. I told all the Keepers what happened, and described how Aidan almost seemed like a different person in the days since the incident. Something in his nightmares had shaken him, if not just the ordeal of being Stung and injected with Serum.

Clint answered the Keeper of the Builders. “We think so. Way it seems, it’s all or nothing. You either get the Serum and live, or don’t and die. Just really painful if you get it.”

Gally raised his eyebrows. “You _think_ so? How do you not know?”

Clint put up his hands. “Hey, Gal, I got my job the same way as you. Besides, Jo knows more about it than anyone.”

Gally turned to me. “Is that so, Girlie?”

I shrugged. “I told you everything I knew, Gal.”

He started pacing the room. Nick watched him tiredly, his eyes weary and his face drawn. Nick had been up a lot the last few nights, up with me, watching over Aidan, or just not sleeping, and while he thought no one else noticed, I did. Some nights I would hear him, Alby, and Newt talking quietly in a room, but the walls were thin enough that I could hear a lot of what was being said. Newt was concerned for his Runners, who I’d allowed to see Aidan, and was nervous about if they’d want to go back in the Maze. They did, of course. The Runners were the bravest of the Gladers, undaunted even by the threat of Grievers, or the Changing that seemed to follow receiving Grief Serum. 

I was just glad that Aidan was alive.

He wasn’t fully recovered, however. Sure, his body was back to normal, save the healing wound in his thigh, but there was more to it than that, and I knew it. Something was off in his mind. Something had happened to him during those days his skin was green and his veins were violet. Something had upset him, and something had made him scared. He wouldn’t talk about it. I offered to listen to whatever he needed to say, but ever since he woke, he’d only spoken that one time. After his somber claim that he’d never be the same again, he’d retreated into himself and was hardly alive to us. 

I was not comfortable with that.

I heard him talking in his sleep. At night, when the darkness would fall over us, he seemed even more uneasy. I had to wake him often, just to release him from the cage of his nightmares, but whenever he woke, he could never tell me what he’d dreamt. 

Until last night.

I could tell he was becoming more and more troubled as the hours went by. I’d sent both Clint and Jeff to sleep, since I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest with Aidan so fitful, no matter how exhausted I was myself. It was well past midnight when he sat straight up, fast as a whip, shaking in fear and drenched in cold sweat.

“Aidan, Aidan, you’re okay, it was just a dream, you’re okay, you’re safe. I’m right here with you,” I’d assured him as I rubbed his shoulder, trying to comfort him as best I could. 

“No, no it wasn’t just a dream, don’t you see?” He began sobbing, sobbing into his hands, rocking back and forth on the cot. “I remember…I saw them. I _saw_ them.”

“Who? Who did you see?”

But he never gave me an answer. I didn't know how to help him, other than hold him as he cried, and try to comfort him as best I could. For hours I sat with him.

When the sky began to lighten, he’d fallen silent, his tears spent. He looked defeated. Hopeless. When he turned to face me, his eyes were mournful, and I was helpless to tear my gaze away from his sorrowful expression, and helpless to deny his one request.

“Please, don’t tell them. Don’t tell them about what I saw.”

I nodded silently.

Really, he’d never described what his dreams consisted of, but I wouldn’t tell anyone that he ‘saw’ anything. 

Not even Gally, not even the Keepers. I might have lied to them when I said I’d told them everything I knew about this ‘Changing,’ but for now, my promise to Aidan ranked above. Besides, it wasn’t like I really had information on what Aidan saw, so the whole subject was better off avoided.

Gally was still pacing. “Keep an eye on him. I think we need to know if there are any after-effects of this ‘Changing.’”

“We will,” Clint assured him. “Jo, Jeff, and I will watch him for the next few weeks.”

“You might want to watch a bit less closely,” Nick suggested pointedly. 

“Why’s that?” Newt asked, almost accusingly. He sat on the edge of his chair, an elbow on his knee and his chin resting in his hands. I could tell he was tired, from not sleeping. He was worried about Aidan, and this Gathering had been a huge concern for him.

Nick gestured to Newt, then Clint, then finally, me. “You three, plus Jeff, have hardly slept a wink since Aidan got Stung. Now, I understand why, but it’s no use to anyone if all our Med-Jacks and the Keeper of the Runners are asleep on their feet.”

I felt all the Keepers look at us. It made me uncomfortable, all eyes on us, but I wasn’t really awake enough to care. Nick was right, I’d hardly slept. 

“Jo and Newt are the ones who’ve been up the most,” Clint pointed out. He sat next to me, and I felt him put his hand on my shoulder. “You haven’t left his side until today. You need to sleep.”

“I want to make sure he’s okay,” I protested. Even now, I was nervous with only Jeff with our patient. 

Nick stood. “I say this Gathering is over. We’ve gotten all the information we can about the Changing and Aidan’s condition. Med-Jacks will keep us updated. As we decided, we tell the Gladers that he’s recovering, but keep the details to a minimum. Clint, Jo, Newt, you and Jeff all need two days of rest. Alby, you and I’ll watch Aidan.” 

Alby nodded his assent, and Clint and I reluctantly agreed. “Wake us if you need anything,” Clint told our leader and second-in-command. 

“Sure thing, Clint. Alright, shanks, we’re done here. You three,” he turned to Clint, Newt, and I, “you and Jeff. Bed. Now.”

We nodded and trudged out of the council room. Clint went to fetch Jeff upstairs, in the Med-Jack room, while Newt and I followed him and went to our room. But when we got inside, I noticed that my things were gone.

“Newt?” I mumbled, furrowing my brows in confusion. “Where’s my stuff?” I hadn’t been in here for days, it was true, since I was sleeping in the Med-Jack room to be near Aidan, but my things hadn’t come with me. Where were they now?

He looked upset. “Nick said he moved your things to Stephen’s room. Your room, now, I suppose.” 

Oh.

Nick had promised me Stephen’s room once the Runner was no longer bedridden, and I guess since he’d been in the Maze with Aidan, that meant he was all better. But having my own room meant…no Newt.

“Right,” I replied dumbly. Newt probably didn’t want me in here, anyways. I mean, I was probably a bother, since he didn’t really share with anyone else before I got there. “Guess I’ll just…” I trailed off without finishing my sentence. Reluctantly, I shuffled to my new room, as Newt watched sadly from our—his—doorway.

“Sweet dreams, love,” he wished me in that lovely accent, a mournful frown on his face. I turned and gave him a half-smile before passing through my own doorway, shutting the door quietly behind me. 

The room was a bit smaller than the one Newt and I shared—had shared—with only one mattress, and a small chest of drawers. It was neat and tidy, and quaint, and private, and all my own. I laid down in my new mattress, finally alone with my privacy to sleep. But I couldn’t get comfortable. 

I hated this room.

It was cold and lonely and it didn’t smell like Newt, it was too quiet without his steady breathing, the mattress was too lumpy, and my thoughts were definitely too loud in here. I was so far away and alone. So alone.

Grumbling, I turned over on my side and shoved my arm under my pillow. That didn’t feel comfortable. Instead, I turned on my stomach, but that felt odd too. So I tried my other side, then my back, then my side again. 

I missed Newt.

I missed him for probably a half hour, during which I still tossed and turned, despite my exhaustion, unable to get comfortable. Then, I heard footsteps coming down the hall, obviously coming to my room. They were unhurried, so it wasn’t Nick or Alby coming about Aidan. 

But it wasn’t Newt, either.

It wasn’t his footsteps, it wasn’t his gait. It wasn’t him that opened the door carefully, too carefully, it wasn’t his rough hands that grabbed my shoulder, and it wasn’t his face that met with my fist.

It was Stan, as I learnt, when he was whimpering on the floor, as I stood frustratedly above him. I was tired. I was unhappy. I wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and other than a split lip, I’d done nothing with my fist, but simply given him a kick in the crotch. Probably not very civilized, but whatever he thought was going to happen wasn’t going to happen.

Nick was there in a second. He skidded into the doorway, and when his eyes fell on Stan, his face became murderous. When his gaze flashed up to me, I saw he was struggling to stay calm, his lips tight, his jaw clenched. He was fuming. “What’d he do?” he rumbled through gritted teeth.

I glared disgustedly at the Bricknick. “Nothing.” I didn't care to elaborate. Nick could see that Stan had come in, and that’s all that he got to do before I decked him.

Nick grabbed Stan by the collar and dragged him away, still keeping his temper enough not to shout. I followed him out of my room and saw Alby watching the scene from the doorway of the Med-Jack room. When he saw Stan, his gaze hardened. We both watched as Nick hauled Stan down and out of the Homestead, the door slamming shut behind him. I didn’t bother to look outside a window to see where Nick took Stan. The Slammer, most likely, and then there’d be a talk with Dmitri. 

Alby and I met eyes. “You okay, she-bean?” he asked in a low voice, careful not to wake up Newt or my fellow Med-Jacks. He’d seen what I did to Stan. I obviously did more damage than he did me.

“Yeah,” I replied tiredly. I turned from him and walked the few steps back to my room, but when I got inside, it still felt…wrong. I didn’t like it in here, and I didn’t like knowing that within an hour—half hour, even—of having my own room, some shuck Glader had tried to make a move on me. While I was alone. While I was trying to sleep after having spent days without proper rest. And I would _hardly_ get a good solid sleep in here. 

I huffed in annoyance. 

I wasn’t happy in here, and I wasn’t all that safe in here.

So I left.

I went back to Newt’s room with my things, ignoring Alby’s smirk, and laid back in my own bed. 

Newt, oddly, was on his side—he never slept on his side—and frowning unhappily. I could tell he wasn’t asleep.

The room smelled like him. It was cozy, but not too hot, and clean and my bed wasn’t lumpy. It wasn’t lonely, it wasn’t uncomfortable, it wasn’t too quiet. I could hear Newt’s breathing, even though it wasn’t steady like it was when he was asleep.

I settled in easily, not tossing and turning like I was before. I was asleep within seconds, but before I closed my eyes, I heard Newt let out a quiet, peaceful sigh, and when I glanced over to look at him, he was smiling.

 


	14. Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo recovers from Aidan's Changing. In the afternoon light, things look a little bit different. 
> 
> (short chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

I woke up feeling refreshed and fully rested. It was bright outside, so I must have slept the rest of the day of the Gathering, plus the night and half the day today. I felt completely at peace and content, cuddled up in my sheet, on my mattress, in my and Newt’s room.

I looked over at him.

He was awake, but only just so, still staring up at the ceiling. The sunlight coming through the window lit up the gold curls of his hair and shone on his long eyelashes, turning his brown eyes into liquid chocolate. His warm, beautiful eyes. I could see every curve of his face; his nose, his jaw, his lips. I could see the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He looked so peaceful. He stretched his arms out, then turned over on his side to look at me, to meet my eyes, as I’d turned my head to see him. “Afternoon, love,” he smiled.

I smiled back, then grimaced slightly and asked, “Do you mind? Me coming back in, I, well…I didn’t feel comfortable in that room, all alone.”

He shook his head against the mattress. “No. Not at all. This is your room, love, for as long as you want. Yours and mine, if you’ll have me.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

Together, we sat up and rubbed the sleep from our eyes. “Probably check on Aidan,” he thought aloud. 

“Yeah,” I agreed. I also wondered what Nick did with Stan, but didn’t voice that thought aloud. Instead, we wordlessly decided to get dressed, turning our backs like normal to give each other privacy, and then departed the room. Our room.

First we checked on Aidan. Jeff was in the room, awake and looking as refreshed as I felt, his hair wet from a shower. He told us that Clint was still asleep, as was Alby, who’d been up with Aidan that night. Nick was wanting me to find him as soon as I’d eaten, so Newt and I hunted down Frypan for a late lunch before we parted ways, him going to the showers, and me going to Nick, who was waiting on top the Watch Tower.

He greeted me warmly as soon as I pulled myself onto the landing. “Feel rested, kiddo?” 

“Very,” I assured him before standing at the rail by his side. “What’s up?”

He tapped his fingers on the wood rail. “I want to talk about yesterday night. With Stan.”

I shifted my feet. “Oh?”

He scowled at me. “What happened?”

I rolled my eyes. “Nothing, just like I told you. I couldn’t sleep, I heard footsteps, he opened the door, grabbed my shoulders, and I punched him. And kicked him, and then you were there.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No. Probably just wanted a kiss or a touch or whatever, but he didn’t get it.”

He rubbed his face. “Threw him in the Slammer, no food, two days. What else you want me to do?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Nick. Just make sure he doesn’t try it again?”

He nodded. “Of course. I, uh, saw you went back to your old room, with Newt.”

“Felt safer.”

“About that. I think, kiddo, if you want to stay there, and if Newt’s good with you there, it’d be better for you. If he’s there, no slinthead’s gonna try to walk in on you. On your own, well, we saw how that worked.”

I gazed across the Glade. The Gladers were all busy working, and Frankie and Billy were guarding Stan at the Slammer. Gally and the Builders were busy with the base of my bathroom, while the Bricknicks were at a shed by the Bloodhouse.

So many of them. So many Gladers, but really, few of them were threats. Still. “Newt’s a bit of safety insurance, isn’t he?”

Nick nodded. “Are you comfortable like that? I guess I can have Gally make you a lock—”

“No, no,” I assured him quickly. “Newt and I are happier, um, I mean, I’m more comfortable with Newt. Guarding me. In our room. His room, that I’m in, so that I’m safe. Yeah,” I rambled awkwardly. “Yeah, anyways, good, real good, glad that’s settled.”

He laughed. “Go on. If you want a shower, Newt’s coming out, so it should be empty.”

I felt myself blushing, but made it down the ladder with my dignity. The showers were empty, so I bolted the lock and washed off the last few days. Again, I thanked the Creators for at least giving us water.

Shuck, I thought, I’d only been here a month—nearly—and already so much had happened. I’d tried all the jobs and become a Med-jack and a Minder, muddled through frustrating situations with the slinthead boys, gotten Grief Serum, and seen Aidan through the Changing.

This place was a shucking nightmare.

For a nightmare, though, the day passed easily, with no problems, just keeping watch over Aidan. He didn’t talk much, but looked forlorn and remained withdrawn, even to me, but I still kept his secret. Newt looked over the maps the Runners drew up every night, taking the extra time today to reorganize them and make sure everything was in proper working order.

I’d forgotten to mention the incident with Stan until dinner, when Gally brought it up. “Nick wouldn’t tell us much. What’d that slinthead do, girlie?”

I scowled at him as Newt whipped his head around. “What?”

“It was nothing,” I insisted. “Stan came into Stephen’s room when I was trying to sleep, but he didn’t get far.”

Ben let out a short, dry laugh. “Not by the look of it. Split lip, kick in the pants…you did good, princess.”

Newt rested his chin on his fist. “That before you decided you didn’t like that room?”

I took a mouthful of soup. I’d just be honest. I swallowed, then admitted, “I didn’t like that room from the start, but after that incident, I didn’t much care to stay there. So I went back to yours.”

“Ours,” he corrected.

“Ours,” I echoed.

It was easy to get to sleep that night. Dinner with my friends had lifted my spirits, and Minho reminded me that it was only a few more days until the newbie arrived, and I would have my first task as a Minder.

I liked my friends. They were good boys, and I was grateful at least to have found them in this horrid place.

And of course there was Newt. He was my friend, but I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was more to us than that. 

Not yet. Right now, he was my closest friend, and right now, I was content.


	15. New Greenie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month has past, and a new greenie comes up. Is it another girl?  
> At the bonfire, the boys give Jo a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Posted September 7 in honor of Newt Day.
> 
> I promise I fix everything. Newt will be happy. :)

 

“Wake up, Jo.” I mumbled as Newt shook me awake. I was so comfortable where I was, I didn’t want to get up. “Come on, love,” he coaxed, “it’s Greenie Day. Might be a girl.”

That woke me up. I practically jumped into my clothes, then sprinted outside with Newt to wait by the Box. It wasn’t making any noise yet, so we went to Frypan for breakfast. Then, the Doors opened, so Newt wished me luck before he and the Runners took off. Hardly anyone was up yet, so I sat by the Box and waited. 

Nick, was awake and moving, of course. He came up to sit next to me as I waited. “Kiddo, don’t get your hopes up too high,” he warned. “If it’s not a girl, I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

I knew he was right, but I still dared to hope. “I know, I know, but if it is a girl, I want to be here. She’ll freak if she sees all these boys and no girls.” I remembered my first day, a month ago now. It seemed like so far away.

“Is that how you felt?” 

I nodded, playing with the laces on my boots. “I was terrified. But you were nice, and you calmed me down.” I looked all around the Glade, its towering walls, the wide fields, the makeshift buildings. “I really didn’t like how many boys were staring down into the Box. I remember grabbing the shovel that split my arm to use as a weapon, since I was so confused.”

He chuckled, remembering how I held the shovel pointed at him. “You were the first girl we’d remembered seeing. It was weird.” 

“It’s still weird,” I added pointedly.

We sat there for an hour or so, chatting about simple things. Then, suddenly, I could hear clanking coming from below. The Box was coming up. 

“Alright, ya shanks!” Nick shouted, his hands around his mouth. “Box’s coming up!” 

Immediately all of the Gladers dropped what they were doing and made a circle around the Box, eager to get a glimpse of the new arrival. The lights atop the metal doors were flashing, and the clanking got louder and louder, until suddenly it stopped and a loud screech signaled that it was safe to open the crate. Gally and Alby pulled the metal doors apart as the Box opened. I could make out the outline of supply boxes, but the Greenie must have been hiding, as I had been. 

“Why don’t you all back up a bit?” I advised. “Give him or her some air. Don’t freak the poor thing out.” I lowered myself into the Box slowly, then took a step into the shadows, where the Gladers could not see me, but where the Greenie could. “Hello,” I said quietly enough for the Greenie to hear, but not enough for all the Gladers to. “My name is Jo. Would you like to come out and meet everyone?”

No answer. No movement. 

“I know you’re scared,” I said. “I was too. You probably can’t remember anything, and, believe me, this sounds even worse, but that’s normal for here.”

“I remember my name,” a boy’s voice said from behind me. I turned to see a boy with brown skin, short black hair, and dark eyes still hidden in the shadows. He was strong but lean, taller than me but not as tall as Newt. 

“What is it?”

“Alfred,” he said, and stepped into the light. I heard some groans and other sounds of disappointment from the Gladers above, and I could hardly conceal my own dismay, but this boy was frightened and needed a friend. 

I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Alfred. Are you hurt at all? It’s a bit rough in this thing, isn’t it?” I motioned all around the Box. “When I came up, a shovel fell on me.”

He winced. “No, just fell into a few crates coming up. Chickens scared the hell out of me.” He jerked his head to the clucking birds to my right.

I laughed. “Me too. Why don’t you come on up and we can try to explain everything to you?”

He nodded and followed me out of the Box. Nick helped pull me up because I couldn't reach the top of the Box with my hands, but Alfred was able to get up on his own.

“What is this place?” he asked in disbelief when he saw the Glade. 

The other boys started laughing at Alfred’s wide eyes and slack jaw. “Poor dumb shank, doesn’t know what he’s in for!”

“Probably klunked his pants twice already.”

“He ain’t gonna get no friends. Not being a boy after Jo came up.”

“Hey!” I scolded. “Be quiet, you slintheads! He’ll settle in just fine, once you lot stop trying to scare him!” They stopped with their banter, but I still heard some snide comments and short laughs. “Alfred,” I said, “we call this place the Glade. We don’t know who put us here or why, but we’re all in this together. You, me, all the Gladers. We’ve got your back.”

Nick strode up and held out his hand. “Hey there, Greenie. I’m Nick. You need anything, you come to me or Jo, alright?”

Alfred nodded numbly and shook Nick’s hand. “Why don’t I remember anything? Why is that normal?”

Nick gestured for me to take Alfred on the Tour, while he and the boys unloaded the rest of the supplies. I waved for Alfred to follow me, and I led him to the Kitchen—he was probably hungry—and explained as we went. “I can’t answer those questions, because I don’t know what the answer is. I got here last month. That’s how it works, see? We get a new boy every month, supplies every week. During the month that you’re the new kid, you’re going to be called ‘Greenie,’ ‘Greenbean,’ or ‘Newbie.’ No way around it, just accept it and move on.”

No one was at the tables. I sat Alfred down at one, then asked Frypan for some sandwiches. “Alfred, this is Frypan. He and the other cooks make our food, and they’re real good at it, so be thankful.”

“Hey there, greenie,” Fry greeted with a wave of his ladle. He was making soup for lunch. “You’re in good hands. Jo’s probably got the most level head of us all, her and Newt.”

“Who’s Newt?”

“Newt’s the Keeper of the Runners. I’m not at that part yet.” I accepted the sandwiches from Frypan, then sat down with Alfred. “Eat up. Now, I’ll make you a deal. We can either go one question/hopeful answer at a time, or I explain all I can and then you slowly ask questions after. What one do you prefer?”

He thought a moment. “All at once,” he decided, then took a bite of his sandwich. Immediately, he hummed in satisfaction. “Frypan—Frypan?—yeah, Frypan, these are great!”

Fry saluted us with his ladle again, and I began telling Alfred what the situation was in the Glade. His eyes widened and threatened to pop out of his skull, but whenever he got nervous I reminded him that we were alive and safe. It took a half hour for me to fill him in as best I could, before I took him on a Tour of the rest of the Glade. I pointed out all the key locations, and at the end, brought him up to the top of the Watch Tower. We sat there for a while, and I let him ask any questions he had. 

He had a lot.

First, he wanted to know how and why I was the only girl. “No idea,” I admitted. “I just came up last month, and now I’m the only girl here.” He asked if I was dating anyone, but not in a will-you-date-me way, just an I’d-like-more-info way. I shook my head. “No, and I don’t think that’d be a good idea. Some of the Gladers…just, do me a favor, don’t make my being the only one of my gender a big deal, okay?”

He not only agreed, but promised to have my back if I needed it, just as I was supporting him now. He continued with questions, and was especially curious about the Maze, though unfortunately I couldn’t give him all the answers he wanted. “Only the Runners know what’s really out there, Alfred.”

He stared across the Glade, past the boys working, at the Doors. When he saw the dark corridors leading into the Maze, he no longer looked scared. “How can I be a Runner?”

I started. “After all I just told you, you want to go out there?” He nodded, not even blinking. Personally, I was impressed. “Then you’ll have to talk to Newt. He’s the Keeper, as I mentioned. But even if he thinks you can do it, you’ll have to try out all the jobs.”

“Fine by me. But I want to know what’s out there. I want to know how we can get home.”

I patted his shoulder. “We all do. Say, Alfred, until you get chosen for a job, will you keep a promise to me?”

“Sure.”

I moved so that he was looking me in the eyes. “Nick’ll probably tell you this again, but I want you to know it now, too. We have three rules here. Rule One: Do your part to help out. We can’t afford to be lazy, and we can’t afford to lose focus. Rule Two: Don’t harm another Glader. Got that? We need trust, and we need to be able to feel safe within these walls. Rule Three, and I want you to be sure to follow this one, okay? Do not, okay, do _not_ go past the Doors into the Maze. If you get chosen as a Runner, that’s shucking fantastic, but until then, you stay on the inside. Okay?”

“Sure, Jo,” he promised, shaking my hand.

“Ah, Jo, Newbie, how you holding up?” Nick poked his head through the hole in the platform. I hadn't even heard him coming up the ladder, but here he was, pulling himself up and sitting on the edge, next to Alfred.

Alfred shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose.”

“Kiddo, why don’t you go on down, find Alby, he needs you for a minute.”

I complied, assuring Alfred that our leader was one of the best Gladers here, and telling him to find me if he needed me. When I reached the ground, Alby was nowhere to be seen, and when I started searching for him, he wasn’t in the Homestead, or the Kitchens, or anywhere he normally was. 

“Frankie?” I approached the Bagger, thinking that with his policing the Glade, he’d notice Alby walking around. “Where’s Alby?” 

“Uh, thought I saw him coming out of the Map Room, but he’s in the Homestead now.”

“Great,” I muttered, and backtracked. Alby was, in fact, on the first floor of the Homestead, sorting through tallies of the day’s supplies. “What’s up, Alby?”

He looked up at me over his pad of paper. “Hey, she-bean. Just recording what the Box gave us.”

“Oh. Nick said you needed me for something?”

He rolled his eyes. “Nah. That was just Nick’s way of getting rid of you so he could tell the Newbie that you’re not to be messed with.” 

“Oh.”

He rummaged through another box, filled with new tools for the Builders. “How is he, the Newbie?”

“Pretty good,” I shrugged. “Wants to be a Runner. He looks strong, could probably do it.”

Alby eyed me warily. “He’ll have to impress Newt. And Newt isn’t impressed easily.”

I frowned. “He isn’t?” I’d never thought Newt was that picky. I mean, I knew he was strict with his Runners, and with the other Gladers, and that’s why they all respected him, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t happy with his friends. He approved of all of us, I was sure, and even if he didn’t spend that much time with the other Gladers, that didn’t mean he wasn’t satisfied with their behavior.

Alby rolled his eyes again and wrote down more numbers. “He doesn’t easily give out his approval or his favor. You don’t notice because he gave it to you.”

Now I was really confused. “He likes everybody. And I think he’ll like Alfred well enough, too.” 

I left him to finish his work, but as I walked out, he chuckled to himself, and I just knew he was shaking his head at me. “Whatever you say, she-bean.”

 

—

 

The Bonfire was exciting. Since I wasn’t as nervous as the last one, it was much easier to relax, though I still made sure to keep an eye on Alfred, and introduce him to the Gladers. As I predicted, he and Newt were fast friends. 

No one challenged me to a wrestle, though Gally had plenty of takers, including Alfred. I’d warned my charge to stay away from Gally’s drink, which he did, but as the night went on, he became more comfortable and I didn’t feel the need to guide him through everything.  

There was almost trouble when Justin challenged Ben to wrestle, but Nick stepped in and forbid the fight. Begrudgingly, the two relented, and to distract everyone from the suddenly heightened tension, the Baggers started playing music on makeshift drums. I still didn’t want to dance with the boys, with their wildness that reminded me again of Lost Boys.

I was sitting with Gally, Ben, Minho, and Nick when Newt approached us, something wrapped in a cloth in his hands. He was grinning wildly, and I couldn’t help but be suspicious. When he stopped in front of me and held out the object, I called him out on it. “Why do you look so excited?”

“Gift for you,” he drawled in his lovely accent. “From all of us.” He placed the wrapped present in my arms, then nudged Minho over so that he could slide onto the seat on the log by my side. “Go on then, love, unwrap it.”

I did, still wary. When I uncovered the ‘gift,’ it was none other than a weapon. A machete, to be exact, of my very own. I looked up at the boys, who were all grinning like lunatics now. “What…”

“This too,” Newt said, handing me a leather strap. He hooked the machete into a sheath and put it on the leather, then helped me strap it across my back. It crossed from my left shoulder and across my chest and back to my right side. “Draw it out, point it at me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Point it at you?”

“Sure. Practice. That way you can be prepared for any other shank who comes at you.”

I realized what this was. The machete, the gift from them all, was my self-defense, past the defense I had from my fists, like Gally’d taught me. This was touching. “Guys,” I addressed them all, eyes shining, “Thank you. Really.”

“We want you to have your own weapon,” Gally told me firmly. “Now, go ahead, girlie. Get some practice.”

I was clumsy with it at first, but after some pointers from the boys, I was able to unsheathe the machete easily, and it felt proper, strapped across my back. I decided I’d keep my med bag on my right shoulder like normal, so that the two could criss-cross and not get tangled up on one side. Newt commented that if it were him, he’d have the machete on over the bag strap, but I disagreed.

Of course, I really shouldn’t need a machete, but I knew that given the incident with Stan, my friends and I would all feel better if I had it with me at all times. 

As the night drew on, I grew tired, and sat propped up against Newt. It was nice, and I hardly wanted to move when Nick called for us all to go to bed. But, move I did, and soon Newt and I were in our room, sleeping soundly. 

Before I fell asleep, I made a scratch in the wall near my mattress.

One month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the machete here is the one that Newt will later carry. If you look up images, you will see him wearing the machete and a bag in the fashion he suggests Jo wear (Newt commented that if it were him, he’d have the machete on over the bag strap, but [Jo] disagreed.).
> 
> All in good time.
> 
>  
> 
> Names come from TMR wiki or the Wall of Names. Boys are scientists. 
> 
>  
> 
> Alfred: Alfred Wegener


	16. Falling Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Builders and Bricknicks are fixing the roof, but it's not strong enough to hold them. Who's light enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

The next two weeks passed easily. Stephen tried out all the jobs, and after Nick, Alby, Newt and I discussed it, was able to try out a day in the Maze as a Runner. He wasn’t afraid of it, and Newt approved of his skills, so at his Gathering, he became a Runner just as he wanted. 

Newt became frustrated with the Maze. I knew that it was difficult to figure, and soon I felt our roles reversing—he usually supported me, helped me through hard times, and now I was doing that for him. We had each other. I was glad to be evening out the give-and-take in our friendship, and even though I was not always able to help ease his worries, I was always there to listen.

Another month went by easily. I strengthened my friendships, and got into a steady rhythm of the days. I woke up with Newt, breakfasted with him, Gally, Nick, and Clint—and sometimes Alby—then spent the morning in the Med-Jack hut or outside, doing rounds or running emergency procedures. I had lunch with Ben, Gally, Clint, and Jeff, or took it in the hut while I read up on the textbooks we had. The afternoon continued in a similar fashion, and when it came time for the Runners to return, I’d either go out and greet them, or they’d come to me after their showers. Usually I washed off just before or after dinner, when the other boys were finished. Dinner was spent with Newt, Gally, Minho, and Ben usually, though oftentimes the other two Med-Jacks would join us, or one or both of our leaders. Even Dmitri sometimes.

The next Greenie, Jackson, was a tall, slim, very pale boy with ginger-red hair, like Ben’s color but in tight curls. He had bright blue eyes and freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks. Despite his slim build, he was surprisingly strong, and ended up being a Bagger, as he had a sharp eye and could detect trouble almost instantly. He was quiet and had a nice smile, but his stern glares stopped even some of the rowdiest boys from fighting.

The newest one, Lou, was a short, well-built boy, with olive skin and almond-shaped hazel eyes. He talked a lot, asked a ton of questions, and got along easily with the Gladers. He liked the gardens the most out of all the places in the Glade, and I could already tell he was interested in being a Track-Hoe.

Lack of supplies had delayed the building of my new bathroom, so I was left to deal with Gally’s lock for my only defense for my privacy. Soon enough, the Builders and Bricknicks were needed to fix the roof of the Bloodhouse, which made me a little miffed, but I knew that without more pipes, my bathroom had to be put aside.

The roof had rotted, so the boys were trying to replace it, when I was called out to address an injury. It was Ben, who’d scraped his hand coming off the roof of the Bloodhouse. “How did this happen?” I asked as I wrapped gauze around his hand, to hold the non-stick pad into place. 

“Thought the roof could hold me,” he rumbled sheepishly. “Newsflash, it couldn’t.”

Dmitri and Gally were discussing the best way to take out the nails holding the wood to the beams on the top of the roof without anyone falling through. “No one’s light enough,” Dmitri pointed out. “They’ll start to fall through, just like Ben.”

“We can’t just leave the boards up there, they’re too rotted to build over on,” Gally reminded him. “We have to remove them somehow.”

“I can try it,” Dmitri offered. “I’m not saying I’m light, but…I’d rather it be me than one of my Bricknicks.”

Gally shook his head. “You’ll fall through for sure, shank. Can’t risk it. I’ll do it.”

Gally put a hand on the ladder, ready to pull himself up, but I set down my things, made it to him, and grabbed his wrist. “Have me go.”

Both Keepers frowned deeply. “Girlie, you’re not a Builder,” Gally said. “Or a Bricknick.”

“I’m light.”

Dmitri glanced at the roof, then at me, but didn’t stop frowning. “True, but what if it still can’t hold you?”

“Well then there’s no hope for any of you, is there? I’d have to be fixing one of you up anyways.” I gently shoved Gally away from the ladder, took his hammer, and started climbing up myself. I knew what needed doing, and if I could do it to prevent the others from getting hurt, I would. 

“Jo,” Gally protested, but I was already up. I handed down my machete, not wanting to get into an accident with it, then observed the roof. Some of the boards were already off. There really wasn't much roof left to take off, but I could see where the wood was rotting through, and I knew that it needed to come off before it could be rebuilt. The ridge of the roof wasn’t too far away from the eaves, but the length of the board I had to crawl up to get to it was longer than I was tall. The nails were in the ridge, and that was where I’d have to balance near to get the work done. 

I noted the blood on the eaves near my feet, where Ben had cut his hand in is hurry to get off the board to my right, which was half caved in. Cautiously, I tested what looked like the strongest board, on my left, with my weight. I pushed against it with my hand, and it was fine, so I shoved it with the strength of my shoulder. It held.

Slowly, I eased up the boards. 

“Careful, girlie,” Gally cautioned. “If it feels like it’s gonna buckle, come down.”

“Sure thing,” I called down. Below me, the Bricknicks and Builders were watching me carefully, ready to help in case something went wrong. 

A few more inches and I could reach the nails. I froze when the board groaned, but after repositioning my left leg on another board, I could shimmy up higher, high enough to pull the nails out. Using the back of the hammer, I removed the nails and stuffed them in my pocket, careful not to teeter off balance.

Once I’d gotten the last nail, the board I was on wobbled. I realized that without the nails to hold it in, it would be much more difficult to slide down the side of the roof without the boards breaking or falling through. “Uh, Gal?” I called down. “The nails are out.”

“Good that, girlie, slide down carefully.”

I grimaced and carefully tossed Dmitri the hammer. “The nails aren’t holding the roof in anymore. What’s the best way to get down?”

I heard him swear. I mean, the boys were only kids, it’s not like they knew everything. I hadn’t thought of the dismounting part, which I definitely should have. Dmitri came up the ladder and grasped the eaves. “How wobbly is it?” I held onto the ridge and demonstrated the extreme wobbliness of the board I was on by shifting my weight. Dmitri held out his hand, but was still more than two feet from my shoes. “Slide down, and I’ll hold on to you,” he told me, anchoring his other hand on the eaves.

I let go of the ridge with one hand and let my body slide down, but I kept the other hand holding tightly to the ridge, in case—

_CRACK._

I shrieked as the board broke underneath me. I fell with the rest of the roof as it caved in, but my anchored hand saved me from the drop. I quickly reached up my other hand to grasp the ridge, as my feet dangled in the open air of the Bloodhouse.

To fall would mean a broken ankle, at least.

“Hold on, Jo!” Dmitri shouted. I glanced to him. He was trying to find another way to reach me, but I knew that he was too far away, and I couldn’t swing myself that far, either. 

I heard the door to the Bloodhouse open, and looked down to see Gally beneath me. Far beneath me, standing amidst the fallen roofing. “Jo, let go, I’ll catch you!”

“Are you crazy?!” I shouted down. I tried to pull myself up, maybe I could crawl across the ridge and get Dmitri to move the ladder, but as I did, even the strong wood serving as the top of the roof, the wood I was hanging on to, groaned in protest. 

_Crack._

It splintered halfway, and I moved my hands to hold onto either side of the break. “Let go, now!” Gally commanded. “I’ll catch you!” 

My hands were slipping down, and the wood wasn’t liking the burden of my weight. I didn’t want to let go, to drop blindly and just hope that Gally could catch me before I hit the ground, but Time wasn’t on my side, not when—

_Crack._

“Jo!” Gally yelled at me as the wood splintered more, and before it could split completely, I let go.

 _Falling,_ I thought, but in an instant, Gally’d caught me in his arms, and then I was standing on my own two feet on the floor of the Bloodhouse, shaken but completely safe. 

He quickly dragged me out from under the roof, outside and away from the barn. “Are you okay?” he asked, holding my shoulders as if I were about to faint. 

“M’fine, Gal.” I shrugged his hands off and glanced back at the roof. Dmitri was descending the ladder, and the other boys were either watching me or assessing the state of the roof. “Thanks,” I added, “for, you know. Catching me.”

“You didn’t think I would, did you?”

“It wasn't that,” I defended. “I just didn’t like the idea of falling.”

“You got the job done,” Dmitri applauded. “One of use would have fallen through before that.”

“She fell through,” Gally reminded him. “But you’re right. You saved us from getting hurt.” He looked me over again. “You sure you’re okay? Not hurt? What about your hands?”

I huffed as he turned my palms up, inspecting them for scratches. “I’m fine, Gal, I think a Med-Jack would know if she were injured.” I held up my hands. “See? No blood.”

“Alright, I’m convinced,” he laughed. “We’ll get the rest of this done. We’ll send Ben to get you if anyone else needs your medical attention, girlie.”

I put my machete back on, then left them to their work, making sure to remind Ben not to participate and make his hand worse. I settled back into the hut quietly, picking up Clint’s checklist of our supplies, and helped him and Jeff tally what we did and didn’t need a refill of. We needed more peroxide, and after today, more bandages. I made sure we wrote that on our list for the Creators to send up.

As it happened, the Bricknicks needed me again in the late afternoon, when Stan bloodied his knee. I fixed him up quickly. The next day, Ben reopened a cut on his palm—not the one from the roof, apparently he’d ignored me and tired working again, but injured himself instead—and needed me then, too. Newt and Minho had taken the day off—the Runners took a full day every two weeks to rest, and a couple half-days in between. After giving Ben a firm lecture, I walked in the Med-Jack room to find Minho on one of the cots, holding his stomach. Newt was sitting next to him, hand on his shoulder, while Clint pounded the Runner with questions.

“Been drinking enough water?”  
“Yes.” 

“Sleep?”

“Sure.”

“Gally’s drink?”

“No.”

“Ever gotten sick from Fry’s cooking?”

“No.”

“Well then what the shuck did you eat?” Clint huffed, throwing his arms up in defeat. He looked at me in desperation, hoping I could help with the issue. 

“I had a headache, I just had some of the headache pills over there,” Minho waved at the shelf, “and now I’ve got a shucking stomach ache!”

I set down my med bag and went to the shelf he pointed to. “What headache pills?” I asked. I’d never seen headache pills. I rummaged through the bottles and small containers, searching labels for what he described. 

“In the pink bottle.”

I stopped searching the shelf. Oh, no, Minho, _really?_

“Uh, pink bottle?” Clint groaned in sympathy. “Minho, man, those aren’t for headaches,” 

“What the shuck are they for?” Minho closed his eyes and moaned in pain. “They’re shucking torturous!”

I laughed and brought him the bottle. “They’re for me. That’s why they’re pink, ya shank.” I turned the bottle upside down in my hand, expecting some pills to come out, but there was nothing. My amused smile vanished instantly. “Minho, how many did you take?”

“Uh, three? I spilled some, too, but I figured you’d have more.”

I put my head in my hands. “Minho,” I moaned, “I only get those every two months!”

“What do you bloody need them for?” Newt asked, an annoyed expression on his face. More for Minho than me, of course. 

I handed him the bottle. My mood suddenly darkened, and I didn’t want to risk an outburst by reading the label. New Greenie just came up two mornings ago—Lou—and no pink bag, I was supposed to take a pill once a week, now I had none? 

Not having an outburst went out the window. Nope, I completely lost it. “Minho I swear if I have to go back to that shucking torture of periods just because you had a SHUCKING headache, I’ll be giving _you_ one for a week!”

He turned pink. “Aw, shuck, Jo, _that’s_ what they’re for?”

“Read the labels!” I snatched the bottle from Newt’s hand and jabbed my finger at the tiny print. “See? _Female consumption only!_ Goodness knows what they’re doing to you!”

Clint shifted. “Minho, shank…I don’t know what to do for ya.”

Minho moaned. “I got girl pills in me?”

I huffed angrily. “Minho, we’re going to the bathrooms.” I put the empty pill bottle back on the shelf, then snatched up a paper and scribbled a note to the Creators on it. I’d drop it in the box immediately, and hope for a refill.

“Why?” he got up uneasily, still holding his stomach.

“I’m getting you something nasty, and you’re gonna throw up everything you’ve eaten since breakfast this morning. Only way I can think of to get those ‘girl pills’ outta you.” I searched around for some medicine, but Clint figured it out and got a syrup for me. I nodded my thanks, too frustrated to say a real thank-you. Then I took Minho’s arm and dragged him out, Newt following. 

“You’d better hope the Creators send me a refill,” I told Minho darkly before shoving him in the bathroom. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names come from the name wall from TMR movie, or TMR database. Boys are named after scientists.
> 
> Jackson: Charles Loring Jackson
> 
> Lou: Louis Pasteur 


	17. Cramps, Cravings, and Crying Fits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. Minho should be scared. Jo's going to have to deal with a load of emotions and more now that her time of the month is here. Yikes. How do the Gladers respond?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dasher
> 
> A/N: Hi guys. So today (September 27) the Fever Code is released. I preordered. Well, anywho, that book will likely invalidate this story, which I wrote to frame the existing books, but we'll just pretend, okay? Just know that if anything in the Fever Code upsets you, this story will be here to provide a different ending. 
> 
> We all love Newt. 
> 
> Also this was going to be two chapters, but I combined them into one long one for my Etsy friend! Shout out to her for making me feel like someone is really interested in this!

A few days later, I was waiting anxiously for the box to come up with weekly supplies. “Please, please,” I murmured, praying that the Creators sent my pills.

There was nothing for me. 

I searched, I asked the boys if they saw a pink bag, a pink bottle, any bottle, but no. The Creators hadn’t sent me up a refill, and I was about ready to punch Minho. I mean, sure, I’d dealt with periods before, but here, I had no proper supplies. As the days went on, I was more anxious. I told myself that the Creators had just forgot, that my pills would come up next week. As that day drew closer, however, my temper got shorter. I was in a bad mood all morning, then I would be fine, then I would feel guilty and apologize to Clint for being so moody, then the Runners would get back and I’d be ready to punch Minho again.

Newt found me grumbling in the Med-Jack room, alone, during dinner one night. “Want anything got eat, love?” He stood in the doorway, two plates in his hands. “Heard you were having a bad day.” I accepted the food with mumble of thanks and scooted over on the cot, giving him room to sit next to me. “Ooh, you _are_ in a bad mood. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I just feel…so everywhere. Up, then down, then up again, and now down. It’s shucking annoying.”

“This got anything to do with those pills Minho took?”

I grumbled. “Probably.” I moved the food around on the plate, but decided I wasn't really hungry. I set the plate down on the side table.

Newt raised his eyebrows at me, and set his plate down too. “Two days ago you raided Fry’s pantry and ate just about everything you could get your hands on, now all of today you’re not hungry?” He looked concerned.

“It’s normal, Newt.”

“Mood swings and loss of appetite is normal? I disagree.”

  
I sighed. “PMS, Newt. I haven’t had a period for months. Now I’m paying for it, so I’m extra shucked.” 

“Why now?”

“I don’t know. Not like I’m gonna be sleeping around, so I’m not having a baby, so there is no need to suffer through menstruation.” I fell down heavily on the bed. “Creators hate me, that’s why.”

“No one hates you, love.” 

I grumbled. An ache was starting to form in my abdomen, and I knew that after all these months, cramps were going to hit me hard. I wished there was another girl here. “Newt, I might as well tell you now, I’m gonna be pretty moody for a few days, and I’m sorry. I think I’ll just sleep in here. I’ll probably just gross you out if I stay in our room.”

“Love, that’s the thing, it’s _our_ room. You can stay in there, I don’t mind if you’re on your bloody period.”

I chuckled. “Nice choice of words.”

He gave me a crooked smile. “My specialty. But really, Jo,” he patted my hand, “I’m sure there are other guys in the world who sleep in the same room as a girl on her period.”

“Might be groaning in pain most of the night,” I warned.

“Well how’s this, if it gets too much, I’ll just kick you out.”

I smiled brightly. “Deal. Now go finish dinner. I’ll just stay right here.” 

He stayed for a bit longer, but eventually he left to return the dinner plates. Once he was gone and no longer there to distract me, I realized how bad the cramps had gotten. 

“Bloody period,” I muttered.

—-

When Newt came back, I’d bandaged myself up and was curled up in myself, trying to put pressure on my abdomen. My machete was on the table beside me. “Jo? Love? Are you…okay?”

I groaned. “I. Am. Not. Moving.”

He approached me slowly. “I can carry you.”

“Too much movement.”

“Can I get you…something? Anything?”

“Not if I have to move.”

He frowned. “Maybe you want to sleep on your side.”

I shook my head. Being on my stomach, with my hands and knees pressed to my lower body, helped. “That means moving. I’m in a well enough position, just leave me to suffer, please.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re adorable when you’re in pain.”

“Thanks,” I groaned.

Clint popped in to make sure everything was organized, but he stopped when he saw me, blushing and appearing extremely uncomfortable.“Oh, shuck. Have you got bandages and all?”

I moaned. 

“Shuck, Jo, what if someone needs to come in here?”

“Shuck them,” I snapped.

“Jo, are you sure you don’t want to be in our room?” Newt asked. He squatted down beside my cot, brows furrowed in concern.

“Do _you_ want me to be in our room?” I retorted. 

Just then, Winston came in, holding his head. “Clint, that shucking goat head-butted me. Can you give me something?”

I glared as Clint quickly ushered Winston to a cot. “I’ll get you some pills and water, then I want you sleeping here.”

I growled. 

Winston snapped his head around to look at me. He frowned at my death glare. “Jo? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ask,” Clint warned. “She’s not in a good mood.” He handed Winston two pills and a glass of water. “Swallow, then pick a book to read. If you have a bit of a concussion, you can’t sleep for a while. No work tomorrow, just rest. Good that?”  
“Good that,” Winston agreed. “But um…” He glanced at me and whispered, “What about her?”

“She’s going into her room with Newt. Newt?”

  
Newt stood up. “I’ll carry you in, love. Just a few steps.”

“But Newt,” I protested, but he’d already scooped me up and was bringing me to our room. I groaned from the movement—shuck this hurt—but soon I was lying down on my stomach in my own bed. Newt handed me a folded-up blanket, which I quickly shoved under my abdomen. The pressure helped. He tucked my other sheet around me, then tucked my hair behind my ear. 

“There now. Better?”

I nodded my head reluctantly. “Yeah. Sorry I was so short.”

He chuckled. “Love, I think you have a good reason.”

I thought about that. “Well, yeah, my uterus is shredding itself, so…yup good reason.”

He grimaced. “I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning, before I go running. Sleep well, love.”

“You too, Newt.”

He left the room, going to see whoever. It was still early. I remained curled up on the bed, the light from outside casting gentle shadows on the wall. I almost fell asleep, but I couldn’t. I heard the door squeak and peeked an eye open to see Minho standing there. “Jo? You awake?”

“Mmmph.”

“Uh, real sorry about this.”

“S’okay. Now scram before I lose it.”

“Why does it hurt you so bad?”

I willed myself not to yell. I was calm. “My uterus is shredding itself. Slowly, Violently. Blood is gushing from my you-know-what. Hormones are running wild. Body is focusing solely on self-destruction of uterus. Translation: Lots of emotions, lots of pain. Now shoo.”

“And this happens _every_ _month_?” he asked in disbelief. He definitely sounded grossed out.  
“It will if I don’t get a refill. Out, Minho.”

“Shuck that’s awful.”

I threw my pillow at him. “Go away! Leave me to suffer!”

He tossed the pillow back, gently, before shutting the door. “Real sorry, sweetheart!” At least he sounded genuine. I shoved the pillow back under my face before trying to reposition myself. I still couldn’t fall asleep. 

Newt came in after a while. He could tell I was awake. “Have you slept at all, love?”

“Nope.”

“Can I help?”

“Nope.”

He sighed. “Just let me know.”

I mumbled in reply before he slid into his bed. I couldn’t tell if he fell asleep or not, but I wasn't making much noise, so at least I wasn’t affecting him.

I couldn’t fall asleep. I remembered this feeling. This stupid torturous feeling. 

Soon, I became hungry. Really hungry. For apples. The craving grew to be more demanding than the dull ache of my cramps, which, seemingly, had subsided for the moment. 

I got up, wrapping my sheet around me and holding the blanket on my stomach. I moved slowly, careful not to wake Newt, and slipped out the door. It was dark, and I bumped into things, but from what I could tell, Alby’s heavy snoring drowned out any noises I made. I slowly traversed across the grass, headed for the kitchen. I didn’t care that it was the ungodly hours of the night, I was hungry. I would be eating apples, now.

I snuck into the kitchen unnoticed, and luckily I knew where the lantern was. “Apples, apples, apples,” I muttered, searching around for the food. There had been a basket of them when the box came up, where were they? 

I peeked inside the icebox and found a small basket of eggs waiting for me. No apples. Well, now, scrambled eggs sounded good too. “Aha! Got you!” I saw the apples sitting on a counter behind the stovetop. I snatched one up and immediately began devouring it as I searched for a pan to make eggs in. 

It was waiting for me over Frypan’s wood stove. I grabbed the eggs and turned back to the stove, only to find Newt standing there, arms crossed over his chest, hair mussy, in his pajamas. “And what are we up to now?” he asked, smirking. 

I held up the basket. “Eggs,” I said through a mouthful of apple. “Want any?”

He grinned now. “You refused dinner, now you’re up in the middle of the night, eating apples, to make yourself eggs?”

I lit the stove and greased the pan. “There are four eggs in here. I can share.”

“You’re making all of them?”

I cracked each one into the pan, added water, and moved them around with a fork, in order to break them apart. “Looks like it.”

He came up next to me. “Fry’s not gonna like that, ya know.” 

I stirred the eggs, munching on the last of my apple. Once I finished, I grabbed another and began eating it as well. The eggs smelled heavenly. I added some salt and kept moving them around, willing them to get nice and fluffy. “He can tell that to my hormones. You want any or no?”

“Sure.”

I kept cooking them until they looked done, then, grabbed two clean forks. I handed one to Newt, then started eating right out of the pan. “Less to clean,” I explained. I shoved the food down quickly. Newt laughed at me, and I realized what I was doing and slowed down. We sat on the floor, the pan between us. I actually laid down on the floor, on my stomach, with the blanket pressed on my lower body, as Newt ate cross-legged, leaned up against the counter. “Sorry I woke you up,” I apologized after a swallow. “Tried to be quiet and all.”

“Ah, I never fell asleep. I could tell you were still awake.”

I shoveled in a particularly large mouthful. Shuck these were good. After I managed to swallow, I apologized again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, love. Now, why don’t you let me clean this up, yeah?”

I protested, but when I moved, it hurt, and he raised his eyebrow. He knew I was in no shape to protest. 

“Ya, sure. Thanks, Newt.”  
He rinsed off the pan and put it back where it was before. He then helped me to my feet, and together we walked back to our room. Alby was still snoring, so we didn’t have to worry much about being quiet. Newt tucked me in gently. “Sweet dreams, love,” he whispered, and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

 

**—**

 

The second I woke up I knew something was wrong. Panicking, I shot up and threw off my sheet, only to be greeted by a lovely stain. I’d bled through during the night, and now I had a mess to deal with. Shuck, I thought, and wanted to cry. Oh, no. This was going to be a tearful day, I could already tell.

“Love?” Newt mumbled, rubbing his eyes. It was dawn, and I only had enough light to see the blood, otherwise the room was dark. Hopefully Newt wouldn’t notice my situation, but I quickly covered myself with the sheet just in case.

“Morning,” I greeted with false enthusiasm, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over at any given time. He noticed, of course, and eyed me suspiciously.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I assured him, lying through my teeth. “Really.”

He stood up and reached for his clothes, but stopped when I made no move to get ready myself. “I don’t believe you.”

I turned my head away. “I’m fine. Go ahead and get dressed. I think I’ll go take a shower before breakfast.” Please go away, I prayed. Please drop the subject and don’t make this awkward. 

Luckily, he had enough sense to do as I asked, though he still eyed me warily as he closed the door. Once his footsteps died down, I burst into tears. Blood was everywhere, the shuck bandages didn’t do a thing, the only thing that saved the mattress was the folded mess of a blanket I’d shoved under my bottom the night before. My underwear, my shirt, the blanket, my legs, all were covered in red stain. 

Okay maybe not, it was just a small stain, but it _felt_ like a huge deal.

I shoved my face into my pillow and sobbed. My hair was coming out of the braid I’d put it in, and brown wisps were sticking to my forehead. I heard the door swung open suddenly, and Newt’s concerned voice greeted me again. “Jo?” I felt his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him off, humiliated, and whacked him with the pillow.

“Go away!” I begged through my tears. I knew I was an ugly crier, I didn’t want him or anyone to see me like this, especially like _this_ , with all my embarrassing blood hiding just under a thin sheet.

“Jo, what’s the matter?”

I kept hitting him with the pillow, crying, “Go away, alright? I don’t want to see anyone right now!”  
“Alright, alright,” he consented, throwing his hands out, “just tell me what the bloody hell is wrong!”

I threw the pillow, then slumped and put my face in my knees. “I’m a mess, okay?” 

He caught the pillow easily, then kneeled by my side. “No you’re not.”

“No, Newt, I am. I mean, I…can you just go? Please?”

He stood reluctantly. “Tell me how I can help you.”

I looked up from my knees, and decided that maybe he could help, even if it was humiliating. “Get me two towels, a bucket, and a thermos of water from the Med-Jack room, then.” He looked confused. Then, realization dawned on his face, and his mouth fell into an ‘o.’ I grumbled at the pity on his face, chastising myself for giving in to his protests. It was stupid of me, and now he was embarrassed, and I was embarrassed, and I would never be able to look him in the eyes again, and everything was just shucking shucked. “Forget it. Just go away.” I set my chin on my knees and stared down at the end of my mattress, waiting for him to leave and close the door. Shuck this was so embarrassing. I wished there was another girl here.

I expected him to trudge out awkwardly. What I didn’t expect was for him to scoop me up, wrapping me in my clean sheet, and carry me out of the room. “Newt!” I squirmed. “What the shuck are you doing, you stupid shank!”

“Bringing you to the showers. You’ll feel better, you know you will. You always feel better when you’re clean.”

“But my clothes—”

“I’ll grab you some while you rinse off. Back before you know it.”

He carried me to the door of the Bathrooms before leaving me to fetch my clothes.

I was astonished. First, he wasn’t awkward enough to kick me out of our room while I was going through my awful female time, then he helped me clean up dishes from my midnight cravings, and now he carried me all the way to the Showers so that I wouldn’t be humiliated in front of everyone else.

Wow.

Even better, he was right, I felt much better after rinsing off myself, and rinsing out the sheets so that the Sloppers couldn’t tell I’d bled all over. I finished quickly, just as Newt returned, and after I dressed, we both walked down for our early breakfast. “Thanks, Newt,” I said softy. “I’m, uh, sorry for yelling at you. I was embarrassed.”

He handed me a bowl of oatmeal. “No need to be embarrassed in front of me, love,” he assured me.

I supposed he was right.

Then again, so was I. It was, in fact, a day of tears, and while I was fine at breakfast, I broke down when I knocked over a stack of books I’d been alphabetizing. It wasn’t as if we had that many, so it was a short stack, but nonetheless it was enough to push me over the edge. Why did it have to fall over, hmm? Why couldn’t it just have worked out and stacked properly? Oh, and why was it _my_ _fault_ that the stack fell? Hmm? Why couldn’t the shucking books stay in a neat shucking stack?!

Clint and Jeff had no idea what to do. I sat in a ball, my face in my knees because I knew I was an ugly crier, and just sobbed, rocking back and forth, letting out exasperated wails every now and then when I felt even more emotional. I just cried. And kept crying, because some shuck stack of books decided to fall over.

“Jo?” Clint finally approached. “Need a hankie?” I accepted his offering, but it didn’t stop the raindrops from falling from my eyes.

More like waterfalls.

I heard footsteps, which belonged to Gally. “Hey, Clint—whoa. Girlie…what…What’s wrong with her?” 

“I think she’s upset that the books fell over,” Clint guessed, unsure.

Gally laughed. “That’s funny. No, really, what’s wrong?” When I sobbed even harder, upset that he just didn't _understand_ why the books falling was so shucking distressing, I could almost hear his grin disappear. “You’re… _not_ joking?” 

“Nope,” Jeff answered simply, emphasizing the ‘p.’ He was still a bit freaked out and unsure of what to do with me.

“Umm…okay, let’s pretend that’s normal,” Gally thought aloud. “Clint, I, uh, was wondering if you had my hammer in here? I left it the other day, I think.”

“Yeah, here it is,” Clint fetched the tool. “Might want to keep this to yourself.” I could feel his eyes on me, and Gally’s, and knew Clint was subtly suggesting that Gally not mention my crying fit. 

“Right then.” Gally cleared his throat. “Thanks, I’ll, uh, see you shanks later then.”

I was useless the rest of the day, so it was lucky that no one needed a Med-Jack. All my emotions were built up and ready to explode. I calmed down at dinner, but when we were sitting and eating, Newt and Ben on either side of me, Gally and Minho across from me, I spilled the last sip of my water on the table and started weeping immediately. 

“Not again,” Gally groaned. “Girlie, what possibly could upset you about spilling water?”

Newt looked ready to punch the Builder, but instead elected to put an arm around me, whispering soft words of reassurance. “Don’t listen to him, love, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Gally threw up his hands in frustration. “It’s a sip of water! What’s there to be upset about?”

“Everything!” I sobbed. “You just don’t get it!”

All of my friends looked completely surprised and confused, except for Newt, who pulled me out of the dining area, to a log outside where we could sit and I could cry. And cry I did, for quite a while, until suddenly I wasn’t.

Ah, I remembered this about myself. I would cry, and get lost in my crying, and then somehow there was no more crying, and I would realize that there hadn’t been for about ten minutes but I was so far into my own despair that I didn’t notice.

“Better?” Newt asked, gently rubbing circles into my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“But I am, really. I know you guys aren’t used to this.” Shuck what would they think of me? Especially Lou, the Newbie. He must think I was nuts. I supposed that many of the boys, especially the younger ones, would think I was nuts. Shuck, a lot of them probably had no idea what periods or sex were. Some were only twelve or thirteen. Then again, some of them were sixteen, like Nick. Shuck, why was I the only girl? I needed a friend right now. But then again, I had a friend here for me. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it, love,” Newt reassured me. “We love you no matter what.”

As I laid in bed that night, curled up from cramps, my face buried in a pillow, I wondered if, maybe, he wasn’t necessarily talking on behalf of all the Gladers.

Maybe he was talking about him.

Maybe.

 


	18. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan remembers something, but he wants to keep it a secret. Jo is his only confidant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

The next days went by well enough. A week after my torturous experience, Alby came into the Med-Jack hut, looking grim. “I need to talk to you all,” he told us gravely as he sat down.

I sat across from him, as did Jeff on the space on the cot beside me, while Clint elected to stand. “What’s up?” I asked.

He drummed his fingers on his knee thoughtfully. I didn’t like this. Alby wasn't normally this pensive. “Aidan…I’ve heard that Aidan’s been talking in his sleep. Having nightmares. You all know that he hasn’t been the same since the Changing, and Newt says that he hasn’t been doing as well in his performance as a Runner, either.”

“What do you want us to do?” Clint asked. He scratched his chin.

Alby shrugged. “Do some medical inspection. Talk to him. See what’s wrong.”

I shifted nervously. Could this have something to do with what Aidan ‘saw’ in his nightmares? I’d kept his secret and not spoken a word to anyone, not that it would have made a difference if I had.

Or would it?

“Jo, maybe you could talk with him, he’s easier around you,” Clint suggested easily. He had no idea how nervous I’d suddenly become. “You were with him most, too, so he may feel more comfortable.”

“Sure,” I found myself saying. 

But when I approached Aidan about it, he was not so easy to talk around.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Aidan snapped harshly. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

We were sitting on a rock near the edge of the forest, alone but in sight of the other Gladers. I’d gently approached him, and finally gotten to the subject of the Changing and how he was feeling now. Of course, nightmares weren't something he was interested in conversing about.

“I never told anyone,” I told him softly. “I never betrayed your secret.”

He looked at me in surprise. “You…I thought you’d told Clint. He’s your Keeper. Or Newt, he’s…”

I shook my head. “No one. Which makes things awkward now, since your friends have heard you talking in your sleep. Clint knows now. So do Alby, Nick, and Newt, and they’re concerned about you. They want you to talk to us about what happened to you during the Changing.”

“I told you,” he growled, and threw a pebble in frustration, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But Aidan,” I pleaded, placing my hand on his, “I’m trying to help. We don’t know what that Serum did, only that it healed the Sting. It may have played on your mind, your memories—”

“I never said anything about memories!” he shouted. 

“Keep it down,” I hissed, hoping he wouldn’t draw attention to us. I quickly scanned the Glade, but no one had turned towards us. I looked back at him, my eyes pouring into his. “You told me that you saw things, remembered things—that means memories. Now you’re having nightmares about them, aren’t you?”

“I _wish_ they were only nightmares,” he spat. “What I saw…Jo my family’s dead. I can’t remember their faces or their names, but I keep seeing flashes, flashes of water, of screens, of people in white coats, and a letter.” He put one hand to his eyes and rubbed at them. Shuck, he was trying to keep from crying. “On that letter,” he admitted hoarsely, “I can only make out three words. ‘…parents are dead.’” 

I felt something inside me break. “Aidan,” I began, wanting to tell him how sorry I was, but he shoved me away and kept talking.

“I see flashes of people with a disease, and the sun, and camps, and two kids in white, a boy and a girl, and that’s it.” He wiped his eyes and his face turned hard, almost like stone. “None of it makes sense. It’s not real,” he argued, almost to himself, “because if it were real, Jo, you’d never want to escape this place.”

—

“Nightmares of the Grievers? That’s it?”

I scowled. “Grievers are not fluffy pets, Alby, you should know.” I’d elected to keep what Aidan said to myself. Here I was, lying to my friends, to keep Aidan safe. “So he talks in his sleep about other things. He doesn’t know what they are, and let’s face it, most dreams are weird and don’t make sense, anyways.”

Alby crossed his arms sternly. “That’s all he told you. Griever dreams.”

I huffed. “I’d hardly call them ‘dreams.’”

He stormed out of the Med-Jack room angrily, soon followed by Clint, trying to calm him down.

Jeff and Newt were alone in there with me. “I need a moment,” I announced, slinking off to my room. I closed the door and let out the breath I’d been holding.

I lied to them.

I lied and kept Aidan’s secret, again.

—

“Jo, you’re not being rough enough with him,” Alby chastised me a week later. 

“Rough isn’t the way to go,” I argued as I made up the cots in the Med-Jack hut. The sheets were newly cleaned, and I was busy tiding up the rest of the room as well. The last two days, I’d put Jeff and Clint to use taking the dirty sheets down to the Sloppers, and I took the time—since we had no patients and weren’t doing much—to sweep and wash the floor. I thought that as a medical room, we should be sanitary and cleaner than the rest of the Glade.

Of course, Alby tracked in mud on his boots when he came storming in, angry that Aidan refused to talk to him, or anyone other than me, for that matter, yet still talked in his sleep about what he’d seen. He stood next to me, scowling, and crossed his arms authoritatively. “I want to know what he saw!”

“And maybe he’s too scared to tell you!” I kicked at his feet. “Look at the mess you’ve made! I just washed these floors, you know. Now shoo. Don’t bother that poor boy, or he’ll never talk.”

Alby left, grumbling, and I had to scrub where he’d left mud. I knew he was worried and curious, but Aidan had asked me not to talk about what he’d confessed to me. Not until he was ready to face the others. For some reason, he admitted, I wasn’t as scary.

Probably because I was a girl, I deduced, but he said that it was more than that. He said my temperament was just more calming. I just wished he’d be able to talk soon, because I didn’t like keeping secrets from Newt. 

Or the others, I mean, but Newt…Newt was different.

“Cleaning again, love?” he joked from the doorway. I hadn't even noticed him coming in. He was still wearing his Runner’s harness and glistening in sweat, his eyes sunken in and his face drawn. I knew he’d been up a lot lately, concerned for Aidan. I sat up with him often, so we spent many hours talking. Just talking, and despite our worry for the Runner, we enjoyed our time together.

“Alby made a mess,” I explained, my frustration ebbing, no longer my primary emotion now that Newt was here. He checked his shoes to make sure he’d track in no dirt or mud, then sat on the newly made-up cot. He patted the space next to him, so I sat, leaning into his shoulders.

“Aidan wants to talk to us all,” he said softly. I started, sitting straight up, and he added, “All you Med-Jacks, me, Nick, Alby. I suggest a Gathering, but we may want to see how he feels, first.”

I jumped up and started pacing. Why pacing? Did I pace? 

Aidan was ready to talk? He was ready to tell us all—not just me—about the horrors he’d seen, about the pain he suffered? Maybe he wouldn’t talk about all of it, maybe he’d just mention that he had flashes of memory, but not about the terrifying memories he suspected waited for us in the outside world.

I felt Newt’s hand on my shoulder. “Love? You’re muttering.”

“I am?”

He nodded. “I’ll fetch the lads, you stay here, alright?”

I tentatively finished cleaning.

—

The next hour, all of the Council sat in a circle, with Aidan standing in the center. He’d agreed to speak in front of all the Keepers and leaders, plus me, and it was me he kept glancing nervously at. I nodded support, and he told us of his nightmares. 

“Bloody hell,” Newt swore, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t sit, but leaned against one of the wood posts holding up the ceiling, arms crossed loosely. “You’ve been carrying around that burden for two months?”

“You mean hiding the truth from us,” Alby corrected accusingly. 

“Hey,” I defended from my seat next to Clint, “he was scared.”

“This is serious,” Alby warned me. “Aidan remembers something about how we got here, and didn’t tell us?” He shook his head, obviously frustrated that Aidan hadn’t come forth earlier. “What else does he know? The way out? Who put us here?”

“No, none of that,” Aidan promised. “It’s nothing like that. Just…terrible flashes.”

Alby glared at the Runner. “We could have helped you, shank! We could have listened! This is hell, what you’ve seen!” The dark-skinned boy crossed his arms firmly across his chest and set his jaw, visibly distressed. I knew he was concerned and unhappy, and angry that Aidan hadn’t trusted him. “You should have told _someone_.”

Aidan mumbled something incomprehensible. 

“What was that?” Newt asked. His face was thoughtful, but I could see his guilt, because Aidan was his Runner, and Aidan had been burdened with the nightmares from the Changing all on his own. 

Or so they thought.

  I still didn’t give away that I knew Aidan’s secret, only smiled or nodded support to him when he needed it. Now, though, it seemed he was ready to talk about our conversations. “I said I told Jo,” he repeated sheepishly. “But I asked her not to tell anyone, not until I was ready.”

Alby turned on me sharply. “What? Shuck Jo, you didn’t tell us about nightmares like this! You said they were just about shuck grievers!”

I glared at him, still sitting calmly in my seat. “You know, Alby, something in the back of my mind reminds me that there’s such thing as ‘doctor-patient confidentiality’ somewhere in the world.”

“Not here,” he growled, leaving his seat and taking a menacing step towards me.

I held out my hand to stop him. “Calm down. He asked me to wait until he was ready to tell you all. Now he is, so just shut your mouths and listen.”

“We have listened! But he’s been alone in this!” He jammed his finger at me, fuming. “And it’s _all your fault!”_

I felt like I’d been hit. 

 _Was_ it all my fault? Had I caused this? Shuck, I had. I’d given him the Grief Serum, I’d put him through the Changing, and the Changing gave him these nightmares and caused him to have a new temperament. 

“That’s outta line,” Newt warned in his thick accent. He moved from his post and took two steps towards me, ready to defend me if needed.

“I wasn’t alone, Alby,” Aidan said. He pointed at me. “I had Jo.”

“Alby, she saved his life,” Clint reminded everyone. “It was her idea to get the Grief Serum, and that may have given him hell, but it also healed him.”

“No one’s ever survived a Sting before,” Newt said. “The Serum may have been Jo’s idea, but it was the Creators who sent it. This is their fault, Alby, not Jo’s.”

Alby huffed and stepped away from me. “Fine.”

I tried my best not to show how hurt I was. I bit my lip, hard, to keep from crying, and refused to meet anyone’s eyes. Guilt was running through me, and while I’d felt guilty for months, wondering if I had been right to give Aidan the Serum, now I was questioning myself again. 

Shuck.

Alby was right, this was all my fault. Here I was, thinking I was helping, and Aidan had been plagued with memories and nightmares for months, and I couldn’t even help him when he told me about them. I’d caused more trouble than I was worth. 

In every way, not just this. Since I got here, the Glade had more problems. The boys got into more fights, Justin caused enough trouble to last a lifetime, and even—

“Jo?”

I snapped my head up. I hadn’t realized I’d been zoning out, but I guess I was. Newt had finally taken a seat, in his chair beside mine, and it was he who’d broken my trance. “M’fine,” I assured him quietly, hoping not to draw attention.

To no use, of course, since everyone had noticed my change of mood, except for Alby, who was standing and ranting about what to do with Aidan. Apparently his anger was heightening and he was demanding a punishment.

No. No, that would not do, not in this case. Not on my watch.

“Alby, calm down,” I told him firmly, despite my hurt. My determination to protect Aidan was stronger than my guilt. “You’re not going to lose your temper in this room, and you’re not going to do anything to Aidan.” I went to where he was and pushed him to his chair. “Sit, before you hurt yourself.”

“She-bean,” he growled, but I would have none of it.

“No, Alby. No punishments. What punishment do you want of him? He’s been punished enough, with the shucking Sting. I think that we need to be here to support him, not to chastise him.”

Alby huffed. Gally glared at him and said, “At least we know she’s good at keeping a secret. If I need to trust anyone with something, I’m going to her.”

The other boys murmured in agreement. Nick stood, and motioned for me to sit, so I did, crossing my legs firmly. “Shanks, this is the first time someone’s survived being Stung. Aidan, if anything new happens, let us know, so we know what to expect if this happens again.”

Aidan nodded sullenly. 

Nick continued, “Jo’s right. We support him. No punishments, the nightmares are enough pain for one person to go through. Aidan, we’re all here for you. All of us Keepers, and the Gladers. Keepers, I charge you each with explaining what happened here.”

I cringed. All the Gladers would freak out.

Nick noticed. “Yes, Jo, I know you’re concerned. But they need the information. You can’t protect them by denying them the truth.”

I nodded sadly. “Yeah, you’re right. But no Greenies. I don’t want a Newbie going off the deep end because they’re terrified. Or, more terrified than they should be.”

Nick agreed. “No Greenies, then. Council dismissed.”

 


	19. Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is Stung. It's going to be a tough week, again, for Jo, Newt, and the Med-jacks. The Changing is hard. What does Alfred see?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: minor character suicide 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> On another note, a HUGE thank-you to Pink_Marshmallow for the lovely comments! I absolutely love reading them and I appreciate your thoughts!  
> :)

 

Nothing much changed with Aidan. Nothing changed much in the Glade, not for weeks. The Gladers became aware of what happened during the Changing, and became scared, as I was afraid of. All but the Runners, who were steadfastly confident. 

But then Alfred got Stung, too.

Newt and Minho hauled him back, as Aidan ran ahead to tell me to prepare the Grief Serum. I made sure to keep our only Changing Veteran with me as I repeated the process of caring for a Stung Glader.

It was hell, again.

Aidan did well with helping. It seemed like it helped him, actually. He had something to do, and something only he could really give first-hand input to. He told us when to expect thrashing, when to expect violence, when to administer a painkiller, which, as we found out, did nothing.

Alfred had been my first Greenie. My heart ached to see him with green skin and purple veins, even more so than I’d hurt with Aidan. This was my Newbie. This was my Runner, as much as it was Newt’s.

Newt felt awful. He stayed with the Med-Jacks and Aidan, and we all took shifts to watch over Alfred. Newt, Aidan and I took nights, then Clint and Alby, then Aidan, Jeff, and Nick, then myself and Newt. Aidan floated between us all, not having a set schedule, but he seemed to know just when was when, and between all of us, we did a great job of minding Alfred, given the circumstances. We all were a mess, me with my brown hair falling out of its side-braid, my clothes unwashed, my face grimy.

I was there when he woke. 

He looked terrified, and when he saw me, he tried to speak, but couldn’t. Aidan stepped in. “Alfred, shank…I know. I remember too.”

Alfred looked at us in horror. “But it…it was so…I don’t want to remember.” He hid his face in a pillow. “I don’t want to remember!”  
I did my best to comfort him, but he refused us all, even Aidan.

Newt and I were upset. Nick forced us to shower and change, but even that didn’t refresh our moods. We picked at our dinners gloomily, and the other boys knew there was no hope to cheer us up. We hardly ate at all. We hardly slept, and the fifth night, we laid on our respective cots filled with sorrow. We were still in our day clothes, him in a tan sweatshirt and dark pants, me in my three-quarter green shirt and brown pants. We both still had our shoes on, too, him with running sneakers, me with brown boots.

“That’s two in four months,” he said dejectedly. “Two Runners, Stung and through the Changing. We’ve lost boys before, but this,” he sighed, shutting his eyes tight against the memory, “this reminds me of what it was like when we first got here. They were dark days, there was no Order. Georgie…well, he’s gone, and …well, Nick was around, and Alby. That’s why they’re the buggin’ leaders now, they know what to do. But now? Now no one knows what the bloody hell is going on.”

I turned on my side to look at him. The faint light from outside only just illuminated his face, and his eyes, open again, were glistening. I didn't want that. “Aidan made it,” I reminded him. “Alfred can, too. He can do it.” I was trying to convince myself more than I was Newt.

He could tell. “I know you're just as worried as I am, love.” He turned on his side to look back at me. “I just don’t know how I can help him.”

I reached for his hand, he held it out. I squeezed it gently, saying, “Try our best, I suppose. That’s all we can do.”

“I just feel like this is my fault,” he sighed, closing his eyes in guilt. “I’m his Keeper. I should have done better.”

“Listen, Newt,” I pressed, “this is the Creators. Not you. How could you know when a Griever was out? You know when the Doors open and close, you know more about the Maze than anybody, and you now know, through Aidan, about the Changing. You know as much as anyone can. So don’t think this is on you. Okay? Because it’s not.”

He nodded silently, squeezing my hand back. “I suppose.”

“It’s true,” I said firmly. “truer than anything else we have in this shucking Glade.”

He sighed into the mattress. “If you say so, love, I guess it’s true.”

I smiled in affirmation. “Glad you figured that out.”

He chuckled, despite our worry. “I just hope he gets through it,” he added solemnly.

“I hope so too.”

We fell asleep holding hands.

—

Banging on the door woke us up with a jolt. We both sat up quickly, and I reached to open the door to reveal Nick as the one who’d been pounding. It was hardly dawn. Newt and I had only been asleep for an hour, at most.

“What is it?” I asked quickly, noting the distress on Nick’s face.

“Alfred’s gone,” he said worriedly. “We need your help finding him.”

Since Newt and I were already dressed, we just ran downstairs. Nick was in front of us, and Alby, Clint, Stephen, and the other runners were off in all directions, calling for Alfred. “Search everywhere. I don’t even know how he did it, I was there, Clint and I were looking over the notebook, and then suddenly he was gone.”

Newt took off for the Deadheads, and I asked Nick, “Where’s Jeff?”

“Staying in the Hut in case the shank returns.”

I ran off to the Forest, calling out for Alfred, desperate to know if he was okay. 

“Alfred!” I shouted, weaving through the trees. I could barely see in the early morning light, but the gentle glow behind the walls was enough. I tripped over a tree root, but quickly picked myself up and ran again, my eyes taking in every glimpse just hoping that Alfred would appear.

It was the sixth morning, he could still be unwell. In fact, he should be. He could be dangerous. He could—

Alfred. There he was, his back to me, facing the wall of names. I approached slowly, cautiously. “Alfred? Alfred how are you feeling?”

He spoke without looking at me. “I remember when I carved my name into that wall. Right above Minho’s. He helped me a lot, when I got here. Him and Newt, mostly, they were the top runners. I joined them within a week of arriving, cuz I wasn’t scared of the Maze.”

“I remember,” I said slowly, softly. I took hesitant steps to him, noting that his skin seemed clear all of a sudden. “You were very brave. You were my first Greenie, you know.”

“I know. But I wasn’t brave. I just wasn’t scared, that’s all.” He laughed maniacally. “I was stupid.”

I kept advancing.

He unclenched his fist and let something white roll off his fingertips. “I’m scared now. But you know what, Jo?”

“What?” I mused, stepping closer, slowly, trying to make sure he didn't notice as I investigated the item he dropped.

“What’s waiting for us back home? It’s worse.”

Oh, shuck, it was a syringe.

He turned to me, his face grave. White foam started to run down his chin. “I ain’t never going back there,” he swore, and collapsed. 

“NO!” I screamed, rushing to him. “HELP! CLINT!” 

He was convulsing now, shuck what had he injected? What did we have that he could use to kill himself with? I tried to clear his airway, I tried to keep his arms from hitting me, but I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t trained. Then Clint was there next to me, shouting at me, I pointed to the ground, “The syringe, the shucking syringe!” 

Alfred stopped moving. His eyes were open, he was staring up at the sky, and Clint had stopped trying to help.

Not me.

I started pumping his chest, knowing that there was a good chance I was doing whatever I was supposed to be doing wrong, but I didn’t know what to do. I just tried. I tried, but Alfred never moved again, even though I pumped his chest, I tried to do whatever I could. I almost tried mouth-to-mouth, but someone stopped me.

“Kid,” Nick said. His hand was on my shoulder. “Stop.”

I kept pumping his chest. Mouth-to-mouth would only give me a taste of whatever he had been foaming, which wasn’t very desirable. 

“Kid. He’s gone.”

Nick pulled my arms away, pulled me away from the dead body lying in front of me, but even so I only saw Alfred, standing before me, letting a white syringe fall to the floor.

I couldn’t save him.

 

**—**

 

I couldn’t get over Alfred’s death. I couldn’t watch as the Baggers buried him in the Deadheads, I couldn’t watch as Newt crossed off his name. That was his job, as Alfred’s Keeper, but I knew it was hard for him. I stood there with the other Gladers as he scratched the Wall, but I turned my eyes.

Newt and I sat up that night, inconsolable. We couldn’t even talk. We’d both failed Alfred. I had been his Minder, his Med-Jack, Newt his Keeper and mentor. And now he was gone. Dead. Because of us.

I couldn’t sleep. Neither could Newt, not until I shoved my mattress up against his so that we could be closer. He pulled me next to him and we laid in each others arms, finding the only comfort we could.

Guilt plagued my dreams, my waking hours, and my heart. I hadn’t done enough. We should have watched him more closely, we should have found him sooner. We should have…

I hugged Newt. He held me tight against his chest, and I felt my tears wet his shirt. “Newt,” I whispered through my tears, “how do we get through this?”

He stroked my hair. “I don’t know, love. I just don’t know.”

I cried us both to sleep that night, and the nights after. We always woke on one mattress, having held each other close the whole night through. 

The days were long and hard, and Nick had ordered Newt to take a few days off. Unfortunately, that just left him and I time to wallow in our misery and guilt, and our emotions were all out of whack. We were upset and depressed, and quick to anger. 

Especially with Justin.

I lost control one night, when Justin mocked Alfred.

We were eating dinner, or at least picking at it, but on the table next to us, Justin was talking about how much of a baby Alfred was, for killing himself.

“Shank couldn't deal with some shucking nightmares? What a pussy.” He laughed and mimicked fainting, then made his voice high-pitched in a crude imitation. “ _Ooh, I’m scared!_ Hah! Thought he could be a shuck Runner but couldn’t take the heat?” He covered his eyes with his hands, as if to hide from something. _“Oooh! I can’t take the memories! Make them go away! Oooh!”_

None of the Gladers were laughing with him. 

Suddenly something inside of me snapped, and the next thing I knew, I was standing behind him. I yanked him from his seat, turning him to face me. He smirked at me, crying, “Ooh, Med-jack, save me!”

And then suddenly I’d punched him, and he was kneeling on the ground, blood dripping from his nose, and I felt no remorse whatsoever. I didn’t care that I’d just broken a rule. I didn’t care that I would be spending a night in the Slammer. I didn’t care that Justin was calling me names.

Because I refused to sit around and let him mock Alfred’s memory like that. “Wait until you get Stung and go through the Changing,” I hissed at him. “Then we’ll see who’s scared and crying.”

I turned, locked eyes with Nick, and nodded. I’d let him bring me to the Slammer. He sighed and jerked his head, and I followed him out the door willingly. 

Nick and I didn't speak. I spent the night behind wood bars, but I wasn't alone. I always had one or two of my friends sitting outside, keeping me company, even if we weren’t talking. When I woke up in the morning, I was sitting, leaned up against the bars, and Newt was on the other side, also leaned up against the bars. 

We were holding hands.

—

We recovered, together. I had weekly talks with Aidan to make sure he got the support he needed. He also talked to Newt, and sometimes us together. We weren’t psychiatrists at all, but we were friends helping a friend in the best way we could: listening. He felt guilt over Alfred’s suicide because he’d waited to talk about his experience, but I felt that he had nothing to do with it. We got back into our normal routines, and while it would be safe to say that the wound Alfred made never healed, we learned to live with it, the same way we learned to live with everything else.

Some days, when I wasn’t busy, I wallowed away, wishing that there was another girl here. But then, I didn’t want to subject her to this life, either. 

I wondered about my parents. I felt an ache in my chest reminding me that I missed them, even if I couldn’t remember them. I wondered if I had a brother. A sister. I wondered if my family knew that I was in here, if they cared, if they were watching.

I wondered about the Creators. I knew they watched us through the Beetle Blades, and I got to thinking that maybe this was a test for us. We had to survive the Glade and the Maze, somehow, and maybe we were supposed to prepare a new community. But I wondered how we were supposed to build much of a life here, being only kids. I wondered what our purpose was.

I wondered about Newt. I wondered if he could be more to me than a friend. But no, we couldn't do that. We couldn’t upset the balance of the Glade. Me, the only girl? In a relationship? 

Stop it, I scolded myself. It’s not like Newt thought of me like that, anyways. No. Don’t wonder about that. But I did, especially when we spent time together and wondered together.

“I bet these aren’t even our bloody names,” Newt grumbled one day. 

I glanced at him, startled. We sat on a log near the forest, talking. He wore his orange tank top, me my gray-green t-shirt, but I got cold, so over that, I wore his tan sweatshirt. “Why do you say that?”

He laughed. “Well, why would the buggin’ Creators give us a partial truth? Why not just erase all of our memories and start new?”

I thought about that. Sure, Joan didn’t seem to fit in my mouth, and I was unsure of my name when I first came up in the Box. “That’s…but that’s all we have.”

He grumbled again, playing with my hair. “Wish we remembered our families.”

I stared off into the sky, remembering Aidan. Remembering Alfred. _“What’s waiting for us back home? It’s worse.”_ I shivered.

“Maybe we don’t want to remember,” I mused. “Maybe that’s the point. We need to restart anew here, and forget what we used to have.” I shook my head, disagreeing with myself. “That sounds awful. I take it back.”

He smiled. “Good. It was far too dismal a thought, anyways.” But that got us thinking of Alfred again, and we both frowned. “I know we both feel guilty over this, Jo. But you’re right. We need to focus on now.” I leaned my head into his shoulder, appreciating his warmth and strength. “Now is good, isn’t it? As good as we’ve got.”

I agreed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if that hurt. 
> 
> Justin's a jerk.


	20. Nails and Slintheads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Builders get into a fight. Again. But what is the real reason for the violence?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Short chapter! Sorry! But the next ones will be loooooooong. As in really loooooooong.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to runningwiththewolves for your comment! I love to read your thoughts ;)

 

The Creators finally sent up supplies for my bathroom, so Gally and Dmitri set their boys to work. I was excited to have a bathroom of my own, but like seemingly everything to do with me, it came with problems.

I was having a peaceful week, which should have been an indicator that something would go wrong soon. Newt and I had spent more time together, I slept in Newt’s arms, I was having nice dreams, I was altogether much happier of a person. But then there came a day when I was just daydreaming in the Med-Jack hut, and problems decided to arise, conveniently when Jeff and Clint were out.

(Not.)

“Med-jacks!” someone suddenly shouted from outside. Instantly, I was out the door, med bag in hand. 

“Where, where?” I asked Paul, a fair-haired Bagger, who had been the one shouting. He was just outside, ready to point me in the right direction.

“By the new bathroom! Builders!” He started sprinting away, down the stairs, out the door, and towards where Gally’s boys were building me my new accommodations. When we rounded a corner of it, I saw Alby and Nick holding back a fuming Gally. Billy, the Bagger, was kneeling by Ben, on the ground with a bloody hand. A nail was jammed into his palm, and he was biting his lip bloody to avoid crying out. Dmitri and Adam were holding down Justin, the Keeper of the Bricknicks covering Justin’s mouth with his hand. Justin was livid and kept kicking, and I couldn’t help but suspect he’d jammed Ben’s hand.

I went straight for the ginger builder. Gently, I took his injured hand—his left hand, thankfully—and observed the wound. The nail had gone all the way through, but it looked like it had avoided the bones and major tendons. Still, it was bleeding and obviously hurting.

“Ben, I can take the nail out here, or in the med-jack hut, which would you prefer?” I asked as gently as I could.

He breathed through gritted teeth. “Here. Just take it out, then clean it upstairs.”

I nodded to Billy. “Hold his arm steady. This will hurt.” I counted to myself before swiftly removing the nail. Ben gave a shout of pain. I immediately doused his hand with hot water from my thermos, then wrapped it in a clean cloth and put pressure on both holes. “Alright, Ben, walk to the hut. Billy, take him. Hurry up. That needs to be disinfected.”

As the pair hurried to the Med-jack hut, I turned to the other Gladers. Gally had bloody knuckles, and Justin had a bloody nose and a swelling eye. “I seem to remember this happening before,” I scolded. I glared at Justin, who was still fighting Dmitri. “Now, I’m not the one delivering punishments around here, but if Ben gets Tetanus, I’ll jam a rusty nail into _your_ hand. Come upstairs once you calm down. Gally,” I said, turning to the Keeper of the Builders, “you too. I won’t have anyone causing more trouble when I’m trying to work.”

I sprinted upstairs to work on Ben.

 

—

 

An hour later, Ben was sound asleep on a cot. I’d tried my best to sanitize his hand, then made up a poultice with honey and some herbs, packed the wound, and made a note of when to change the dressings, which would be every two hours. I’d given him medicines to help with the pain, then made him sit and rest. Dmitri came up for ice for Justin, but the Builder didn't come up for my personal medical attention. Gally did, and I wrapped up his hand, which was bruised and swollen, with a few scrapes. After my stern prodding, he admitted that Justin had smacked his hand with the wood of a hammer. He’d meant to hit him with the head, but luckily Gally was fast enough to avoid the metal. I ordered him to rest his hand a few days, which sent him storming off in a temper.

“Shucking slintheads,” I muttered. “Always getting into fights.” I mean, really, Justin got into more trouble around here than the rest of the Gladers put together. This was what, the second or third time he and Gally had resorted to fist fights? Even Ben was involved. The first time it had been Dmitri, standing up for my honor when Stan had insulted me. Now, what was it? Was Justin bad-mouthing me? If so, how did that result in Ben getting a nail in his hand?

Ben had refused to tell me.

“Knock, knock?” I turned to see Newt in the doorway, still glistening from his run. “Heard the Builders got into a fight today,” he said, coming to sit on the cot opposite Ben.

“Do you know what about?” I sat with him, having just finished cleaning up.

He grimaced. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you,” he confessed, “but I know that you’ll find out sooner or later.”

“Of course I will,” I nodded appreciatively.

“Well,” he continued, “the way I heard it, this afternoon Justin was complaining about building you your own special place, and Ben was saying how it was necessary, in order to ensure creeps like Justin didn’t bother you when you deserved some privacy.”

I nodded. “Bathrooms and showers should be private.”

“Right. So, Justin took offense and started going off about how you hadn’t earned it, and Ben kindly reminded him of how you beat him in the fighting circle your first day, had saved his life when Justin hadn’t tied off that box when you were working on the barn, and had figured out to ask the Creators for Grief Serum. Justin started denying how you beat him, and Ben told him to shut it, that he was a slinthead and had caused you enough trouble—remember when he stole your clothes?—and anyways, Justin flipped and slammed the nail Ben was holding right through the poor shank’s hand.” He nodded to the sleeping Builder. “As you saw.”

I groaned and put my head in my hands. “Why is he such a slinthead?”

“He resents you, love,” Newt told me. “I don’t want that to sound harsh, but it’s true. He’s been mad at you since day one, since you’re a girl and you weren’t interested in him.”

I snapped my head up. “What?”

He laughed softly. “When Justin saw you on your first day, he didn’t think you could pull your own weight around here, and he got mad. Mad that he was wrong, because I know for a fact that he lost bets when he lost against you during that fight. You humiliated him and he didn’t like it, and he hates you but at the same time, I think he likes you.”

“Likes me,” I repeated flatly. “Are you shucking kidding me, Newt? He doesn’t like me, and it wouldn’t mean a shuck thing if he did. He’s a slinthead and he’s cruel, and he hates me.”

Newt shrugged and got off the cot, patting my shoulder. “Just telling you what I see, love.”

“Hmph,” I sighed. “Odd way of trying to show his feelings.”

“Not quite sure if those feelings are purely romantic,” Newt said darkly. “He wants you, Jo. You’d best be wary.”

He closed the door behind him, and I was alone with Ben in the big room. “Great,” I muttered, and stood. I began reorganizing the cupboards until Ben awoke, and by that time it was dinner.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry it's so short.


	21. Scratches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone walked in on Jo in the showers, and now she has a bad feeling. Is she safe?
> 
>  
> 
> WARNINGS: Violence and attempted sexual assault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dasher.
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING (again): Violence and attempted sexual assault. If this is a trigger, please skip this and the next few chapters.
> 
>  
> 
> Also big thank you to Padackllinsy on your comment! :) Hope these next chapters don’t disappoint…

 

When Newt and I woke up the next morning, I went straight for the showers. He went for the Kitchens, but I decided it was early enough where no one would be in the bathrooms, and I was too busy with Ben last night to rinse off. Of course, once I got there, I first made sure no one else was inside, and like I expected, I was alone, thankfully. I was feeling impatient and didn’t want to have to wait. Just to make sure no one would bother me, I shoved the small bolt across the front door. If a Glader tried to come in, the slight barricade would be a sign to stay out. After all, it had worked in the past, and the boys had just shouted apologies through the door, then waited for me to come out.

I noticed that the bolt seemed to be lopsided, as if the nails holding it in place were starting to come out. I tried opening the door while the bolt was in, as a test, and it remained shut. Satisfied, I undressed and set out a towel before turning on the water. 

It felt so nice, the warm water washing away the grime from the past two days. My face especially felt oily, so I washed it three times before reaching for the shampoo. I thought that my hair was horribly greasy—I’d worn it in a braid the past few days to hide the state of it, not finding time to take a proper wash—so now I used a selfish amount of shampoo to clean it. I mean, my hair was long and thick, so it needed a lot of shampoo anyways, but I poured a handful of it before massaging it into my roots.

Unfortunately, a good deal of it—and the leftover soap from my face—ran into my eyes.

“Agh!” I yelped, trying to rinse the sting out of my eyes. Oh, it hurt! I couldn’t see a thing, nor could I hear anything over the sound of the water and over my cries of pain.

If only I had.

Rough hands grabbed me from behind, twisting me around so that my back was against the wall. Those same hands began roaming my totally exposed body as I swung blindly, unable to see the intruder.

I screamed, but rough lips covered my own, a firm hand grasping my hair and titling my head back, before I brought up my hands to the Glader’s face.

I scratched my nails down as hard as I could.

He instantly launched away from me, but stifled his shrieks of pain. I caught his scent, and recognized it, but couldn’t place it.

I wasn’t sure what to do, to try to rinse my eyes, to attack him blindly, to huddle up and scream for help—when I heard the door slam, and I knew I was alone again.

Shuck. 

Shuck.

_Shuck_.

I breathed hard for a few moments before I got my bearings. Quickly, I blinked the shampoo from my eyes, then ran to my towel and wrapped it around me tightly. The door, upon inspection, was no longer locked.

The bolt was on the ground.

The two nails holding it in were beside it, so nothing at all could keep anyone out. I couldn’t take the chance that my attacker would come back, or that someone else would come it, so I dressed in a stall without even rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. Instead, I tried to towel it out, all the while replaying what just happened in my head, trying to deduce who had barged in on me, who had…attacked me…made me feel so uncomfortable…

I had to get out of there. I had to get to Newt. I trusted Newt.

I’d felt some of my attacker’s hair before I scratched him. Mentally, I ruled out a lot of the Gladers who had poofy hair, curly hair, or close-cropped hair. 

I was almost in a trance as I walked to the Kitchens, where the Runners were having breakfast. I caught Newt’s eye, and when he saw me, his smile dropped and his brows furrowed. In a flash, he was at my side.

“Jo, what’s wrong?” he asked when I flinched away from him. Maybe this was a bad idea. All the Gladers in here were boys, all of them…

“Someone walked in on me,” I told him in a frightened whisper. I hadn’t realized how scared I was. “Like, he, um…grabbed me.”

“While you were…in the shower?”

I nodded numbly.

Rage painted his face, though he remained calm. “Who?” He was careful not to startle me, he could tell I was terrified. 

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I had shampoo in my eyes, couldn’t see. But,” I showed him my bloody fingernails, “I scratched him. Scratched his face. Bad.”

He looked at me oddly before saying slowly, “I’m taking you to see Nick. Now,” he added sternly when I began to shake my head. “Someone attacked you, Jo, our leader needs to know about it.” He gently led me outside, not touching me because I shied away from his skin, to the watch tower, where Nick spent his mornings. When we got to the base of the ladder, Newt pointed up. “He’s up there, love. I’ll bring you up.”

The watch tower was high up, giving our leader a perfect view of the Glade. The sun was just peeking over the walls, and while most mornings were peaceful today felt wrong. Very wrong. I looked down at the blood under my nails, and thought with a pang, “I broke a rule, Newt. I hurt a Glader.”

Newt looked at me sternly. “It was defensive.”

The sunlight made the blood look even more sinister. “I still did it. That deserves a day in the Slammer, at least. I hurt someone. Oh shuck, Newt,” I began to breathe heavily, “I swear I wasn’t trying to. I mean, I was, since he was…” I put my head in my hands.

“Jo,” Newt whispered gently, “this isn’t your fault. You’re not in trouble.”

I groaned into my hands, then took them away from my face, ready to accept my discipline. I’d broken a rule. I’d messed up Order. Sure, I did it once before, but…Shuck, but I was so scared right now. What if Nick got mad at me? Like, really mad? So many problems had arisen because of me. “I think,” I stared up at the tower again, “that I should just tell Nick what happened and accept whatever punishment he gives me.”

Newt gaped at me, eyes wide. “Jo, if he gives you a punishment, I’ll scratch _his_ bloody face.” I grimaced, then started up the ladder. Newt followed behind me, and I tried not to feel nervous. When I got to the top, Nick turned around, his face pleasantly surprised, until he saw my expression. 

“What’s up, kiddo?” he asked, frowning. 

I sat down nervously on the wood planks. _Nick was fine,_ I told myself. It was Nick. He was my friend. Though he and Newt, while we were up here, could… _No, Jo, that’s silly,_ I scolded. _Don’t think like that._ Newt made it up and kneeled down at my side. “I just wanted to talk to you. As the leader and all. Ya know.”  
Nick took note of my serious tone, and changed his voice to match it, giving Newt a confused look. “Talk, then.”

I looked right at him. “Promise to hear me out, first?”

He nodded, arms crossed. Then he sat down, sensing that I didn’t like his intimidating stance. 

“Talk,” he said again.

“A couple things, then. One, I broke a rule, but Two, it was in self-defense, and Three I am frightened. Not just of the Maze or the Creators or this life here. I am frightened by one of the Gladers.” 

He looked at me steadily, eyeing my agitated condition. “Explain.” 

I showed him my fingernails, with the blood on them. “Just now, I went to the showers, and I was washing my hair. Had the door locked, but they must have gotten past it because then someone was there, grabbing me, and I got soap in my eyes and I couldn't see anything, but I scratched whoever’s face—it was real bad—and he left.” I took a deep breath and ranted, “Don’t know who it was. Anyway though, I harmed him, and that’s against the rules, and I thought you should know, but I also think that given the situation, he was going to do a bit more than hurt me, so I believe I was fully justified in my actions. However, as a result of it all, I am, simply put, terrified. From the way his chest and shoulders and how tall he was—about—I can rule out some people, but I still feel nervous.”

He was quiet for a few minutes, thinking, and I just waited patiently. “Who’s ruled out?”

  
I shrugged. “You. Alby. Minho—definitely not his hair—” I almost chuckled, but didn’t, “Newt, Clint, Jeff, Zart…not Gally, it wasn’t his hair either, plus I just fixed up his hand yesterday so it’s still wrapped up, um…not Frypan, not Ben. But I think if we notice someone with scratches on his face, we’ll figure it out.” 

“Today,” Newt demanded. “We need to know today.”

Nick nodded his agreement. “I’m glad you told me this, kiddo.”

I looked at my hands. “Can I have someone I trust—like Newt, not Newt, sorry,” I apologized for my mistake, “you’ll be Running, um, Ben or Gally or someone, like, guarding me?”

  
He frowned, as Newt growled. Nick looked more concerned by the second. “I suppose that’d be good. If you’re in the Med-Jack room, you have Jeff and Clint, I’ll make sure Alby is close to the Homestead in case they both need to go out at some point, that way you’re not alone.”

I shook my head. “No, I meant while I was in the Slammer.” 

He looked at me oddly and Newt huffed. “Jo, I’m not throwing you in the Slammer for scratching the face of a guy who’d try to…” he eyed me cautiously. “…force himself on you. No. I’m gonna spend my day searching for the shuckface.”

I was somewhat surprised, but relieved. “Nick—thank you.” 

“Bloody told you he wouldn’t punish you,” Newt muttered.

“Kiddo,” Nick continued, “maybe you shouldn’t focus on working today. I don’t want any chance that you could get attacked again. Wait. Just until we find whoever it was.”

I nodded. “Still, I’ll stay in the Med-jack room. Can we not…like, tell everyone? I don’t want anyone to think I’m vulnerable.” 

He raised his brows. “Never took you for the proud type, kid.”

I shook my head. “I’m not. Its more like, I don’t want to look like a target. Don’t want anyone to think they can do this, too.” 

“Good that,” he said apologetically. “Details are between us three.”

“May tell Clint. Don’t want to mess up a med job.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t run today,” Newt mused. “Stay here, watch over you, help search for your intruder.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine, Newt,” though I was lying. I wanted him there with me, but that would be selfish. He couldn’t afford to babysit me if I got jumpy. Besides, I had other friends here to help me. Nick, Gally, Ben, Alby… “Don’t worry about me, Newt,” I urged. “I’m fine.” I got up to leave, but remembered something. “Oh, and Nick, one other thing,” I added, as Newt began the descent down the ladder, muttering to himself, “he smelt kinda like…um…” I trailed off. 

“Like what?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. I can’t describe it. It was funny, though. I’d recognize it again easily.”  

With that, I carefully descended the tower after Newt. 

 

—

 

I finally convinced Newt to Run. I promised that I’d be with Clint or Gally or Nick all day, or someone who I trusted. Still, he accompanied me to the Homestead, going up to meet Alby, Nick behind him, as I made my way to the Med-Jack room. Clint and Jeff were already waiting there. I sat down in my pillowed corner with the anatomy book and began studying, hoping the reading would calm my mind. 

It was a while before Clint spoke. “Erm, Jo?” he asked, clearing his throat. 

I looked up. “Hm?”

“Um…are you okay?” 

I frowned. “Do I seem off?” Jeff nodded frantically, nervous even. “Oh. Well, ya, actually, I am…I…um…” I wasn’t sure how to explain, but in that moment, Newt walked in, Nick and Alby behind him. 

“Alright, listen up, ya shanks,” started Nick. “Something happened this morning, and bottom line is, I need you to keep an eye out for a guy with scratches on his face.”

Simple. He glanced at me, then took off, leaving Clint and Jeff pretty confused. “Jeff, I could use a hand,” he called from the hallway. Jeff, still confused, went after the older boy, leaving Newt, Clint, Alby, and me alone. 

So I could tell them. I looked at the boys. Newt nodded support “So, Clint, Alby….um…well basically this morning someone kinda barged in on me in the showers, and I…um…” I shifted. “Well he didn’t leave right away, in fact he kinda came up to me, and I scratched him, but I don’t know who it was so…Nick’s looking,” I explained quickly. 

Alby looked furious, but he refrained from yelling. He was calm enough for once, which was good, as second-in-command.

Clint asked, “You mean that he…”

I nodded, “Basically.”

“I’ll shucking kill the shank,” he swore angrily. “Are you alright?” 

I shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Let’s keep it quiet, ya?” I asked them both. Newt reaffirmed his promise, so all of them were doing as I asked.

It was quiet in the Med-Jack room that day. I mostly just read the Anatomy textbook, but I couldn’t help myself from wondering how Nick’s search was going. Truth be told, I was on edge. At one point, Clint got called because a Slicer got head-butted by the cow, but he had Jeff go instead, and I was glad. Jeff noticed how edgy I was, so when the next call came, he immediately went to the Blood House, no questions asked, leaving Clint with me. 

All was quiet for some time, before I realized that Jeff and been gone for more than a couple of hours. “Uh, Clint?” I began nervously, “why’s it taking Jeff so long?” Did one of the Slicers have scratches on his face? Was Nick questioning him? Was I safe?

Clint frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but right then, Winston came through the door, livid. “Clint, Jo, I need you at the Bloodhouse, right now. Jeff was trying to fix up Greg but now the shuck cow stepped on both their feet.” 

Clint grabbed his med bag. I, however, was a bit slower to react, but reluctantly grabbed mine as well. “Can they walk?” Clint asked.

Winston shrugged. “Don’t really think they can, without it hurting too bad.” He turned to leave, but looked back at me suspiciously. “You okay, Jo?”

Clint eyed me warily. “Jo, I don’t want to leave you here alone,” he began, but I cut him off.

“No, Clint, it’s fine, I’ll come with.” I begged him silently not to speak any more and unintentionally prompt Winston to ask more. I nervously gave a smile, hoping it looked reassuring, and followed my Keeper out of the Homestead. As we swiftly made our way to the Blood House, I searched all around me for a trace of a boy with a bloody face.

No one.

When we were close to the Blood House, I heard someone calling my name.

“Jo! Clint!” Adam shouted to us. He ran over, waving his arms. “Hey, I need a Med-Jack, pronto. Builder in need of your attention.” 

Clint stomped his foot in frustration. “I already have Gladers who need me here,” he jerked his thumb to the Blood House, “and one of them is Jeff.”

Adam frowned. “ ‘Kay, what about you?” he asked me. 

I froze. Shuck, someone needed a Med-jack, and I was too scared to move.

“I need her here,” Clint stated through clenched teeth. I saw him struggling with this, wanting to keep me safe and wanting to help the injured boys.

Adam looked at me beseechingly. “He’s hurt, Jo,” he begged. “He’s stuck in the forest, trying to fix it himself, doesn’t want to see anyone. I think it’s pretty bad. He always gets embarrassed when he messes up, gets all moody.”

I shifted my gaze to the edge of the forest, where I noticed some Builders chopping wood.  Gally was sitting on a pile of logs, no doubt shouting demands to his boys, frustrated that he couldn’t work because of his arm. After all, I’d told him to lay off the work for a few days, he couldn’t be too pleased.

“Can it just wait?” Clint begged. “These are more serious injuries, in here. And Jeff needs to get fixed up so he can help anyone else.”

Adam frowned defeatedly. “I mean…I guess, but hurry, will ya?”

Clint nodded silently and turned back to the Blood House, following an anxious Winston.

“I’ll go,” I announced reluctantly.

Clint immediately whirled around, eyes wide, but Adam appeared much relieved. “Good that, Jo,” he smiled, thankful, before turning and trotting off to the Builders.

“Jo,” Clint hissed, grabbing my sleeve. “I’ll do both, it’s fine.”

“No,” I pushed his arm away, scared of his touch, “I can do it. It’s my job. I like helping people.”

“Jo,” he protested, but I waved him off in an attempt to hide my nervousness. 

“I’ll be fine,” I lied. In truth, I was terrified. But this was my responsibility, and right now, someone was hurt and needed my help. “You help Jeff and Greg, I’ll go for the Builders.”

I followed Adam, a deep fear bubbling in my stomach. Something felt terribly wrong.

 

—

 

Gally was bored. He kept shouting orders to the Builders, while Ben, sitting out because of his injured hand, fought an amused grin and tried to talk to Gally about things other than the Keeper having to rest his arm. Unfortunately, he wasn’t too successful.

“Shuck this arm, Jo, it’s just a bit scratched up!” the Keeper whined. “Please, girlie, put me back to work.”

I shook my head no.

Shuck, I couldn't even talk. Even Gally was intimidating. I mean, sure he was probably the strongest boy in the Glade, but he was my friend. I knew he hadn’t attacked me, why be scared? Why did I flinch when he met my eyes, when he spoke? “Gotta rest it a bit, Gal," I finally managed. "Besides, I can’t have you getting into more fights right off, now can I?”

  
Ben quickly shook his head at me, trying to tell me to stop talking, but I’d done the damage. 

“Yeah, and where is that shuckface?” Gally shouted angrily, his livid tone startling me into flinching. I didn’t have to ask to know he was talking about Justin, and I knew he was still in a huff about yesterday. “Haven’t seen him all day. Trying to avoid my lectures, that’s what he’s doing. That or being the coward and trying to hide from my fists.”

Adam said, pointing to the forest, “He’s been chopping logs all day, from the trees we felled. I went back to grab an ax, and that’s when he hurt himself.”

I froze. Justin? He was the one who needed my help? I stared fearfully at the trees. Of course I had to help Justin, on the day I was so _not_ in the mood to see any boy. Maybe Justin…no, someone would have noticed. I pushed the thought out of my mind. Right now, I had to focus on playing the medic and helping the injured Glader.

“Thought you said he didn’t want any help?” I hoped Adam would give me a way out.

“Well, ya,” he rolled his eyes. “Stubborn that way, and I didn’t see how he got hurt, but I heard him yell and start swearing at the ax and his leg and something about Med-Jacks being stupid.” He grimaced apologetically. “He’s not in the best of moods.”

“After yesterday?” I shook my head. Why did it have to be me? Why Justin? Why today? “Just point me in the right direction,” I sighed. I flinched yet again when he shot his arm out suddenly to point. 

“Girlie, you okay?” Gally asked from behind me, suddenly concerned. “You seem jumpy today.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. He stood up from his seat on a log and walked over. “What’s the matter, princess?”

I shook my head and plastered on a fake smile. “Nothing,” I tried to assure them before giving a wave setting off to find Justin. “Don’t be so fussy,” I called to Gally as I walked off.

But the dark forest made me nervous. Really nervous. I could sense something was wrong, but I felt obligated as a Med-Jack to do my part. So I kept going, deeper and deeper into the trees, until I could make out Justin’s muttering, then his silhouette, through the trees. 

“Justin,” I called. “Where’re you hurt?” I got closer and could see him better. He was facing away from me, fumbling with something in his hands. No doubt a tool, for working on the logs. “Adam said you got hurt. I have a Med bag here, I can fix you up.”

To my surprise and confusion, he laughed. Why wasn’t he turning around? 

Something was wrong. 

Something in the air was off….the scent…and then, I noticed, in his hand was a syringe. He held it up to his left arm, and gave another warped laugh.

“Justin?” Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, no one laughed like that, that was how Alfred laughed—

“No!” I shrieked, dropping my bag, and rushed at him, Alfred’s last moments flashing though my mind, I couldn’t lose another Glader like this, even if it was Justin, I couldn’t let him die like this.

He turned and caught me, and that’s when I noticed. 

He had scratches on his face.

My entire thought process shifted, I knew there was nothing in the syringe, I knew this was no Alfred situation, so I turned to run, to sprint away, but Justin was too quick. Suddenly he had me pinned up against a tree, his face was just inches from mine, and his scent wafted into my nose, like it did this morning, and I knew it was him.

I reached for my machete, but he beat me to it, whipping it out and holding it to my neck. My breathing started racing, and I felt myself panic. I wanted to scream, but my throat constricted. I made a move to dart away, but he held me by the shoulder with one hand, and with the other, brought down the blade from my collar to my waist, slicing my shirt and bra as well as my skin. I tried to cover myself with one arm, and pry his hand from my shoulder with the other hand. He then tossed my weapon to the side, too far away for me to reach it, and used both his hands to push me into the tree trunk. Justin was one of the strongest builders, next to Gally. His arms could do more damage than my machete. This was bad, really bad. “You got me in trouble,” he hissed angrily. “I’m the only one around here who can see that you’re not doing the only thing a girl like you is good for, and what happens when I voice my opinions? I get beat up for it.” His hands were crushing me, I had to get him off.

“Get away from me,” I told him, my voice shaking. “Now.” 

He held my shoulders and slammed me against the tree. My head banged onto the trunk, resulting in me having a hard time standing up. He slammed me again, and this time he let me fall. In an instant, he was straddling me, I tried to scream, but one of his hands grasped my throat as the other landed hard blows on my face. 

_Punch._

_Punch._

_Punch._

I felt my lip bust open. I pushed my hands against his chest, and this morning flashed through my eyes, when he’d had me blinded. Now at least I could see his face, and the scratches that painted him as my attacker. I tried again to scream, scratching at his face and adding to the cuts from before, but he only tightened his grip around my neck.

No. No, he was _not_ strangling me.

Shuck, yes, yes he was.

I was losing air. I kept squirming, but all he had to do was wait me out. I remembered what Gally and Nick had taught me about fighting, and started using my hands to beat Justin in the face. I got a good hit on his nose, but then he stopped beating my face and instead used his hand to grip my hands above my head. Soon my vision blurred and he let go of my neck. I immediately started coughing, choking on air, and while I was stunned, he let his hands roam my exposed chest. 

“I’ll show you what you’re good for,” he growled fiercely. He repositioned his legs inside mine, his knees on my thighs, his feet between my knees, and worked with unzipping his fly. I shrieked and felt a burst of adrenaline, using all my strength to try to roll him off of me, but he was so shucking heavy even just on his knees, he still had my hands, and his weight anchored me to the ground. He then unbuttoned my pants, then lifted himself a few inches, just enough to pull them down, but I saw my chance. 

_“Well, kiddo, if it comes down to it, your gender is the best advantage you have.”_

_“How so?”_

_Nick shrugged innocently. “Well, we all can hurt real bad in a place you can’t. Just saying.”_

While he was elevated, I brought up my knee to his crotch, as hard as I could. I cringed as his hand scratched across my hip when I startled him, causing him to shout out in pain. 

I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could, praying that someone would hear me.

He was focused enough on his pain for me to shove him off. Quickly I scrambled to my feet, pulling up and zipping up my pants as I moved away, my fingers trembling so bad that I couldn’t even find the buttons.

“No!”

He lunged for my ankle, in a final attempt to subdue me. I kicked at him, but fell down when he yanked on my leg. I shrieked, scrambling on the ground frantically as he pulled me back to him. I kicked his face, and he howled. He didn’t let go of my shoe, but it came off, giving me my chance for escape. I launched to my feet and sprinted off towards the Glade. 

As I raced away, fear made me gain speed. I tried to wrap my shredded shirt around me, using my hands to keep it from exposing my chest. My head was throbbing, so was my face, and my shoe-less foot, and my throat was on fire, but I saw the light green of the clearing through the trees. It got closer and closer, but I could hear Justin behind me, yelling at me, his feet pounding into the forest floor, getting louder and louder and—

“What—Jo? What’s—” a blur asked. It was moving towards me, but I kept running. “Girlie, why are you…JUSTIN YOU SON OF A BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU!” 

I heard shouting and what sounding like fighting behind me, but it wasn’t important right now. I focused on the color of the Glade and ran, only concerned with putting as much distance between Justin and I as possible. 

I made it. I was in the grass, but I kept sprinting forwards, away from the forest, away from Justin, when suddenly I ran smack-dab into something solid. I tumbled to the ground, as did the thing I barreled into. A ginger-haired figure. Ben. When we stopped rolling, I was stuck underneath his torso, and he wasn’t moving fast enough.

“Get off get off!” I shrieked—no, choked. My throat, it was…

The Homestead wasn’t too far away. I could go there, back to the Med-jack hut, back to my room, as long as it was away from here.

“Easy, princess! What’s wrong?” Noticing my panic, he launched to his feet, and I did the same, immediately moving for the Homestead, but he caught me in his arms.

Why wouldn’t he let me go? “Let go of me!” I screamed. “Get off!” Please let me go let me leave let me get away.

“Alright, okay, just calm down!” he tried. He sounded concerned. “Just tell me…oh my—MED-JACKS! NOW!”

I thrashed against him, swatting at his arms and at his chest. It wasn’t very effective, since I only used one arm. The other was keeping my chest covered. _“Move!”_ I had to get away, before Justin caught up to me and attacked again.

I heard shouting in the woods. A dark figure ran up to me and the ginger-haired boy holding me. I only saw shapes and colors now. “Who’s in there?”

“Gally. Alby, get Clint _now!_ Jo, she just came out, she’s…”

He stopped talking when Gally shouted a startling accusation at Justin. It scared me. Did Justin…? No, he tried, but no.

“No,” Ben’s voice said in disbelief. “No, no, no,” he repeated. I punched at him again, I had to get away, his grip on me loosened when my hand hit his shoulder, but I still wasn’t free, and I was screaming at him, screaming for him to let go, but then the dark figure was in front of me, shouting for Nick, shouting for Clint, shouting for anyone. I heard Bark faintly in the distance, barking his head off, trying to get someone’s attention. I looked in the direction of the barking and saw our tallest building, and remembered my idea.

The Homestead. If only I could get to the Homestead, get to my room, lock the door, I’d be safe. I fixed my eyes on it, focused on the door, I just had to get to the front door—

Oh, no, not going in there, the door swung open, a tall figure ran out—it was Nick, I could tell, but the way that door opened—no, no I wasn’t safe in there, Justin could get in there, where could Justin not get me?

My mind cleared, if only briefly.

_The Maze._

I wouldn’t have to go far in, just past the Doors. He wouldn't dare nudge a toe over the border, right? 

But I’d get into trouble. I’d be breaking a rule. But it was the only place where I could be safe from Justin.

“Kid? Kid what happened?” Nick was in front of me, holding my shoulders. Alby shouted from behind us, yelling at Ben, shouting that they needed to stop Gally before he killed Justin. “Kiddo can you hear me? Jo!” I swatted at him. His arms were strong, his hands kept me in place, Ben was gone, I only had to get past Nick and I was free, free to run, free to get away, get away, get away, Jo! Just _run!_

“Nick tell me it’s okay,” I begged, my voice shaking.

“What’s okay? Jo, what happened?”

Shuck the Gladers were all coming over, there were so many of them, they were all boys, I needed to get away. “Please, Nick, I swear I won’t go far, just tell me it’s okay,” I implored while pushing him away. Shuck what if he turned on me? 

I couldn’t wait for that. “Nick just until the Runners get back. I swear when the Runners get back I’m in, I just have to go where he can’t get me, Nick please.”

“Kid what are you talking about?” He wasn’t letting go of me, let go of me, let me run, please,

I was suddenly in full motion, sprinting across the glade, one hand holding my chest together, in the direction of the entrance to the Maze.

“Someone stop her!” a voice yelled. 

I didn’t care. I just ran. A few boys caught up to me, but I dodged them when they lunged to intercept me. I wasn’t running into the Maze far, I just wanted to be safe, and right now, safe meant being where Justin was not.

The air got a few degrees cooler as I crossed the border.

I only ran a few steps into the dark tunnels. Less than ten paces from the entrance was a small alcove in the stone, enough for me to sit behind so that those in the Glade could only barely see me, and I didn't have to look at them. 

I fell into the wall, no longer able to stand freely on my unsteady legs anymore, but here, out here, I was far away from any threats.

Safe. 

 


	22. Tears and Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Justin's attack, will Jo ever be able to trust anyone? Will she even want to return to the Glade?
> 
> How can she recover from this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights to to James Dashner.
> 
> Warning: Recovery of and reference to assault. If it’s a trigger, keep skipping. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also huge thank-you to the absolutely beautiful comment from DJ. It made me cry happy tears, which hasn't happened in a while. :)

 

I collapsed against the cold stone floor, panicked and out of breath, which were two physical states that did not go well together. I wanted to be calm, I wanted to be okay, but I wasn’t. I was so cold and I was shaking and I was _so_ terrified. Was this what I’d skipped when I first came out of the box? This feeling of sheer terror and utter hopelessness? 

At first it was nothing. At first, it was just a few tears rolling down my cheeks. But then, then suddenly my whole body was wracked with sobs, and I couldn’t breathe, and Justin was choking me, and I was bawling, and I wanted to scream—

“Jo!” Nick’s voice shouted into the Maze, making me jump out of my skin. 

“Leave me alone,” I whined through my deep breaths, in an attempt to calm myself down. “I said I would’t go far, Nick, I just…” I let out another sob and hugged myself tighter. 

“Jo, come on out of here.” I heard his footsteps approaching but I didn’t see him. I was facing away. 

“No!” I scurried from his approach. “Stay away from me!” His footsteps stopped, and I said, more softly, “Just, not right now. Okay? I’m not looking to spend the night with the Grievers, I just want to be away from…”

“From Justin?” he finished quietly.

I flinched, but nodded, hoping he’d see. “Please go away.” I was feeling intimidated. Not by the Maze walls—they were just walls—but by him. Him and his male-ness.

“It’s just me, kid.”

“I’ll come back in when the Runners get back.” Why wouldn’t he let me be? Couldn’t he understand that I was…that he could…that I was so scared?

“Jo, kiddo, you’re hurt. He hurt you. Please, come back, let Clint take a look.”

I was quiet. I was hurting, that was for sure. Justin had cut my chest…and hit me…and strangled me…I was a Med-Jack, I could treat myself.

“Please, Nick.” I buried my face in my knees, blocking out even the faint light of the Maze. “I can’t see any of you right now. I can’t let you see me.” What would they think of me, looking like this? Huddled in a corner, up against the Maze walls, shivering and crying? I would look vulnerable. Pathetic. Weak. An easy target.

“Nick!” came Clint’s shout from behind. My head snapped up in fright, my eyes darting around for an escape—which would just be going further into the Maze—before resting on the gray stone in front of me. “Nick, please, Nick, tell me she didn’t run in there.”

“She’s right here. See her? There. Right there.” 

I heard Clint sigh in relief. “Jo, out, now. Let me look at you, Jo, you’re injured.”

“ _Please_ , just _let me be.”_

“Wh…what?” Clint sounded hurt.

“Just for a while,” I promised quickly, noting his distress. “Please! Just go _away!”_

“Clint! Nick! Where is she?” That was Ben. Ben?

“Ben, slim it, she’s right there. See her shoe?” Clint explained to the newcomer.

This was too much. There were too many of them, too close to me, the whole reason I’d shucking come out here was to be alone, so no one could get at me, so no one could see me, and now here they all were—

“Where is she!” Gally shouted angrily. “Did he touch her? I swear, Nick, if he touched her I’ll throw him outta here myself!”

Too many. Too loud. Too _loud_. I began sobbing into my knees again, my chest heaving, my shoulders shaking. Why couldn’t they leave a girl to cry in peace?

“Gally, shut _up_! You’re scaring her!” Ben scolded.

“You’re _all_ scaring her! She’s in shock, or something!” Clint huffed. “Let her be, let me help her.”

“Stay away from me!” I shouted. He ignored me, I heard his soft footsteps come closer, but they reminded me of Justin’s footsteps, pounding into the forest floor, he was pounding his fist into my face, he was right there—

“Everyone slim it!” Nick shouted over my panicked screaming.

I launched to my feet, trying to run deeper into the Maze, farther away, but I collapsed the moment I was up. I was at their mercy. I couldn't even crawl.

“Out of here, all of you, yes Clint just stay by the Doors, let me try to talk to her, everyone shut it!”

I fell back into the wall. Instantly I was rocking back and forth, bawling my head off. Why couldn’t they understand? I didn’t want to see them. If I saw them, when I was so scared like this, then I would be scared whenever I saw them. I was so scared of Justin, of boys, and they were boys, if I remembered these feelings and remembered them together then I could never look at them the same way as before. And them, seeing me so broken, would mean they wouldn’t see me the same way, either.

“Jo? I said, did you hear me?” I shook myself out of my thoughts. Nick was talking to me, he was still a few paces behind me, he couldn’t see my face. “Kiddo? Please, Jo, can you hear me?”

I nodded, tears still streaming down my face. 

“Kid, I said Alby threw Justin in the Slammer. He won’t get at you. You’re safe now, come back inside the Glade.”

No. Not yet. I needed to be out here, where I only had to stare at the gray stone in front of me. “When the Runners get back.”

Why when the Runners got back? Because that was a few more hours I could sit here in the quiet. I was just a few feet from the Glade.

“Kid, you’re hurt real bad.”

I was cold, too. _Really_ cold. Oh, shuck, my medic mind thought, you’re in shock, look how bad you’re shaking, shuck shuck shuck—

I couldn’t see straight any more. My vision was blurred with tears, my mind was fuzzy, I was so cold, and now I was shaking _so badly_. 

I couldn't stop the recent events from replaying in my head. Up against the tree, thrown to the ground, losing air… Justin had been the one this morning, he attacked me, I’d been so foolish to go out alone, into the forest, there he was waiting for me, shuck I was so gullible! He was there, he was beating my face—it hurt so bad, my eye was swelling shut—he sliced my shirt—I wrapped it around myself tighter—I was bleeding, this stung, he was straddling me—SHUCK he was in between my thighs, his knees kept me anchored, he was, he tried to, he almost…

I went over it again and again in my head,wondering what I did wrong, how I gave him the impression that it was okay, how this was not my fault, shuck all those boys were back in the Glade, how the shuck would I go back? I cried it all out, all my fear—or, I tried to, but it didn't seem to end, I rocked back and forth, sobbing, wailing, biting the cloth of my ripped shirt, no the cloth of the blanket—what blanket? It was warmer, shuck it was cold out here, or was it just me? I felt cold everywhere, was I trembling? Yes, yes I was, it was quieter now wasn’t it, it was just my crying that made noise, no, actually, listen, it had been dead quiet for a good ten minutes which meant I’d stopped crying a while ago and hadn't noticed...

Everything felt numb now. My mind was numb, my hands were numb, my face was tight with drying tears, my body was cold. 

“Joan?” I realized Nick had been calling my name every few minutes or so, for the past…lot of minutes. How long?

I hardly felt like I was in this body. It was as if it were a dream. Just a bad dream. A nightmare. “I’m…I’m okay, Nick.”

I heard him sigh in relief. Probably because I’d finally said something. “No, you’re not.”

“Nope.”

“Did he…did he…?”

I knew what he was asking. He was asking about what Gally’d shouted about. “Tried.”

“But…?”

“But he has a crotch, and I have a knee.” I did my best to sound humorous. 

“And he has a fist, and you have a face.” His voice was flat. Definitely no humor. But a good comparison, I almost laughed. “Jo, Clint’s here, waiting, let him take a look?”

Not yet. “Soon.”

“Kid, your neck…”

My neck? Oh that’s right, Justin had strangled me. That’s why it was so hard to breathe. Wait, I thought with a start, how did Nick know? How…

The blanket. Sometime during my crying fit, he’d draped the blanket around me.

And he’d let me stay put.

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. _He’d let me stay put._

I stared at the gray wall that’d been my companion for the last half hour. It was so plain, so monotonous. So, not intimidating. 

“Promise you’ll let him take a look, soon as the Runners’re back?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

He sighed. “Ben, go see Alby, ask him what’s up, then come back and tell me,” Nick told Ben, who apparently was still at the Maze entrance. 

“I’ll go with,” Gally stated, he was there too, but Nick stopped him.

“Nuh-uh. Gal you’re not going anywhere near him.”

“But Nick,” the Builder protested.

“No,” Nick concluded firmly. “You stay here and keep shooing away anyone that comes near here. She doesn’t want anyone seeing her, we’re here to make sure no one else, other than us since we’ve already seen her, does. Got that?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Time-check?” Clint asked Nick.

“Few more hours till Doors close. Shuck I hope Newt and Minho called an early day.”

They faded back into silence until Ben came back. I could barely make out his voice, but make it out I did.

“Justin’s talking a load of klunk. Shuckface's gone all jacked up.”

“What’s he saying?” Clint asked, irritated.

“Said it was all a game. A game he was playing with Jo.”

“Did he not realize that she wasn’t playing?” Clint huffed.

“Guess not.”

Gally growled. “I’ll show him what—”

“Gal,” Nick cut off. “Slim it. Can’t let you do anything. Gotta wait for a Gathering.”

“Shuck ‘Order,’ Nick! He shucking tried to r—”

“Gally!” Clint shouted over the builder. I guessed that he covered Gally’s mouth as well. “Don’t talk like that, you’ll scare her!”

They all fell quiet, and I could feel their eyes on me. Oh, shuck. Oh, shuck. I wasn’t gonna cry, not again. No. No, no, no. 

I heard movement from up ahead, from in the Maze. My head snapped up, and I gazed past the blank gray wall in front of me to see Minho and Newt coming around the far corner. Their faces paled when they saw me. 

Minho’s eyes flickered behind me, to Nick and the others, but Newt just focused on me. 

“Jo?” They both had stopped running, and now were approaching me very slowly, as if I were a wounded animal. Newt came first, taking one gentle step at a time. 

“Stay away from me,” I warned them, my voice shaking with fear. Newt’s brokenhearted expression made me regret my words instantly. Guilty and ashamed, I tried to cover my face. “Didn’t mean it,” I whispered to Newt, hoping he’d hear me. Why did I wait for him? Why did I wait for him to see me like this? I didn’t want him to see me this way, why was I here?

It was Newt. I trusted Newt.

Still, I couldn’t look at him. Not in the eyes. What would I see there? I stared at his feet as he came closer, five steps away, three, two… 

“Jo?” he whispered. It was Newt, I reminded myself when I flinched. He was just in front of me now. I didn’t scurry away. He kneeled down before me, slowly as ever. He just stayed there a moment, not moving, waiting for me to look up at him. When I did, I could see pain and guilt flash in his eyes. I quickly looked away, ashamed, almost. He sat down next to me, and I looked back at him. 

“Oh, Jo,” he whispered. Seeing that I didn’t shy away, he wrapped his arms around me, with such gentleness that he could have been a whisper in the wind. I flinched from his touch at first, shying away, but then I felt so much safer in his arms, his strong arms, and immediately I started to cry into his chest. He was warm. He was comforting, he was safe. 

He just held me.

He didn’t tell me to hush, he didn’t tell me not to cry—probably because he knew I wouldn’t, couldn’t, and after all crying was how I got rid of stress, and he didn’t know I’d been crying for hours already, well maybe he did, I was sure my eyes were red and my cheeks had tear tracks all over them—he just held me and rocked me back and forth. He told me I was okay now, that I was safe now.

I don’t know how long I cried for. Sobbed, actually. After a while, I realized that I’d stopped crying some time before, again. I felt so numb.

“You don’t look too good, love.”

“I know.”

“What happened?”

Surprisingly, I didn’t tense when he asked me. When Nick had asked, I’d shut him down, but Newt’s warm arms made me not as scared. “Justin happened.”

His eyes glanced behind me, to where the others were waiting. Some unspoken conversation happened between him and the Gladers, and I heard Clint hush Gally. Newt’s face screwed up in anger as his gaze flashed back to me. “What do you mean, ‘Justin happened?’” 

I shrugged against him. “Don’t wanna talk about it, Newt.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, “I never should have left. I shouldn’t have left you when he was out there.”

“Jo, kiddo, you said you’d come in when the Runners got back,” Nick reminded me. “They’re back.”

Newt moved his head so that I was looking in his eyes. “Love? Let’s go on in, shall we? Get out of the Maze?”

Go back into the Glade? Shuck I’d just said that to put off moving. I didn’t want to move, and I certainly didn’t want to go back with all those boys, with Justin…But I didn’t want to stay in the Maze, where I’d surely die.

“What did we do to deserve this?” I asked Newt suddenly. “Why the shuck are we all in here with no memories? What kind of criminals were we, if we were sentenced to this kind of punishment?”

“Love, I don’t think you were a criminal.” He looked nervous, as if he were afraid of me. Afraid of something I’d do. “Love, please come with me, come on into the Glade.”

“What did I do?” I hissed. “What did I do to be put in here with all these boys? This was bound to happen, is this my punishment?”

“Jo, come on, let’s go in,” he pressed insistently. “Please, love, come on.” He unwrapped himself around me and stood up, pulling on my shoulders. 

I shrugged him off. “Newt, I don’t feel safe in there.”

“And you feel safe out here?” 

I glanced around. These tall, dark walls, the cold air, the thick ivy…no, I did not feel safe out here. “I feel safe with you,” I told him plainly.

He didn’t say anything at first. I waited, not looking at him, before sighing. He noticed and kneeled down in front of me again, and took my face in his hands. “Jo, I will keep you safe. But safe means the Glade, not the Maze. Let me bring you back?”

A voice in my head told me that he was being sensible. Very logical, in fact, and I was being silly. Stupid Jo, stop making a fuss. “Okay,” I allowed quietly. 

He smiled at me then. It was a small smile, a worried smile. But it was also a relieved smile. “Up we go, then.” He gently pulled me up, away from the cold solidness of the wall at my back. I was unsteady. I wobbled, and my head swam, but he slinked his arm around my waist and kept me upright. “Easy does it.”

Now it was time to turn around. I didn’t want to face the Gladers waiting for me, since that meant one, they would see my face and by the looks on Minho and Newt’s faces, it looked as bad as it felt, two, they would see how vulnerable I had been, and three, I’d see them and feel guilty for pushing them away. 

Shuck.

I kept one arm crossed over my chest, holding together the pieces of my shirt, and let the other one wrap around Newt’s shoulder so that I had more support. My ankle was throbbing. I hadn’t realized it before, but when my shoe came off it must have hurt. It hurt now. Everything hurt now.

He turned me around and we began walking to the Glade. It was only about twelve steps away, and the minute we’d crossed inside, I felt warmer. The sun was shining down on us now, and to be honest, it was a little too bright.

Gally, Ben, Clint, Nick, and Minho were waiting for us. Gally was frowning, his eyebrows pointed down sharply, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. Ben and Clint looked concerned, Nick looked relieved, and Minho looked confused.

“Jo, why the shuck did you go in there?” Gally scolded immediately.

“Slim it, Gal, she told me she was going in,” Nick defended lazily. “No rules broke, kid, just don’t do it again.”

“Really?” Gally snapped. “You’re worried about _rules_ right now, Nick?”

“Jo, let me take a look at that,” Clint implored, stepping to me, his med-bag at his feet. I flinched away from him.

Shuck. He looked like he’d been slapped. “Didn’t mean it, Clint,” I murmured. It was Clint. I didn’t have to be afraid of him. I slowly moved to him, as an apology. “I, um…my head hurts,” I offered pathetically. “Might have a concussion.”

“A concussion?” Minho gaped. “What the shuck you mean, you might have a concussion?”

“Minho,” Nick warned.

“No!” Minho pointed sharply at me. “What the shuck was he doing? Hitting her on the head? He shucking attacked her, for what?”

I retreated into Newt, looking down at my feet. The boys waited in tense silence, either waiting for me to explain, or else hoping Minho would figure it out without needing an explanation.

We stood there for a while.

“Wait…” Minho muttered. He took a big step to me, and looked me up and down scrutinizingly. He seemed to notice the state of my shirt for the first time. Well, I had been huddled in a ball beforehand, and he’d only heard what I told Newt. 

“Minho stop looking at me like that,” I demanded shakily. “I don’t like it.”

“Your shirt is ripped.”

“Yeah.”

“Your pants are…” I glanced down and noticed that my button was still undone, even if the fly was up. My fingers couldn't magnate a button right now.

“Mm-hmm,” I murmured nervously. Shuck Minho, leave me be!

“Why.” His voice was flat, it was hardly even a question.

I locked eyes with Clint. “Can you check my head now Clint? In the Med-jack hut?”

His eyes softened. “Yeah. Let’s get you fixed up.”

Newt supported me as I moved to follow Clint to the Homestead, but Minho stepped in front of us, looking furious. “Your pants…Jo, are you telling me that Justin—”

“Minho shut it!” Clint yelled. “Can’t you see she doesn’t want to talk about it?”

I jumped at the loud noise. By Minho’s expression, he wanted to kill Justin. “I’m gonna kill him,” he swore, but Nick shot him down.

“Gal already tried. Newt, Clint, fix her up. Then, we’re having a Gathering.”

“Just throw him out now!” Minho shouted. “Who needs a shuck Gathering?”

“We don’t know what happened,” Nick began, but Minho interjected.

“You can see what happened! Look at her face!”

I turned my face away. Newt saw and he took a deep breath. “Boys, stop buggin’ shouting.”

“Let’s go,” I begged, tugging at Newt’s shoulder. “Come on, can we _please_ just go?” I didn’t want to be out here, where these shanks were arguing, or where the Gladers could see me. They were starting to look at us, now. Some of them put down their work and walked over. “They’re staring,” I announced, nodding towards the rest of the Glade.

Gally turned around. He waved his arms out at the boys, shouting, “Didn’t you shanks hear me the first time?” 

Some of the Gladers went back to work, others shouted protests.

“Come on, love.” Newt gently steered me away, to the Homestead. The Gladers watched us, but didn’t approach, and I was glad. I kept my eyes fixed on the Homestead. When we got there, Clint opened the door for me, but I hesitated. Did I want to go in? It was enclosed.

That was a good thing. I could lock doors.

But locks could be broken. Like this morning.

“Go on,” Gally said from behind us. I hadn’t realized he’d come with, but there he was. “I’ll come with you, keep anyone out of the Med-Jack hut.”

I agreed. Newt helped me up the stairs and lead me into the Med-Jack room. Jeff was in there, laying down on a cot with a wrapped foot. “Jo?”

“Hey, Jeff,” I greeted numbly. 

“Jeff, Newt’s gonna help me,” Clint said. He and Gally shared a look, and Gally pulled the door shut. Clint looked back at Jeff. “You stay there. That foot needs rest.” Newt helped me to a cot. Funny, I thought, I usually was the one helping Gladers lie down and relax, and here I was the patient. “Jo, it’s just you, me, Jeff, and Newt. You comfortable with us?”

I glanced down at my chest. My arms were still crossed firmly, holding my ripped shirt together. But I was cut right down my middle, and my bra was sliced, so…I would treat myself, even if my hands were shaking.

“I suppose,” I responded quietly. Clint reached for my face, no doubt to inspect the bruises and cuts I could feel there, but I practically jumped away from his touch, hissing. I stood aways away from him and Newt, but no closer to Jeff.

Clint immediately retracted his hand. “Jo,” he asked slowly, “where all are you hurt?” His eyes flickered to my ragged shirt. The way he approached the question unnerved me. He was too cautious, too nervous. 

I looked away. “I can treat myself,” I offered again.

“Jo, you’re shaking way too much to treat yourself properly. We went over the textbook a while ago. Remember what we talked about? Does this situation…fit the theoretical one?”

“Um…”

“Can you just tell me what I need to be concerned about?” He was almost pleading.

I shifted uneasily. “Just what you can see, Clint.” I basically denied anything more extreme than my beating. “But, um…there’s the issue of my shirt…”

“You can just wear your bra.” He bustled around the room, gathering various bottles of disinfectant, oils to help the abrasions heal, bandages, a bucket of water, towels…

“It’s broken,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?” he asked, not able to hear me. He brought over the supplies and kneeled in front of me. 

I looked at the floor. “It’s…broken. Cut. Like the shirt.”

He gaped at me. “Did he rip it?” he asked, shocked.

I clenched my jaw. Did I have to say this? “He sliced it.”

“What?” Jeff asked. Clint shot him a glare. “Who did what?”

I groaned and shut my eyes. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Jo, you’re gonna have to talk about it,” Clint told me flatly. 

“Not right now,” Newt defended. “Just fix her up.”

Clint again reached for my face, but again, I flinched away. “Sorry,” I muttered when he let his hand fall.

“I have an idea,” Clint suggested. 

“Hmm?”

“Jo, please look at me,” Clint asked. When I did, he stared me square in the eyes, all serious. “Jo, I need you to go into medic mode. Okay? Just for a few minutes. I need you to be a doctor.”

Medic Mode.

Calm.

Controlled. No emotion.

Could I do it?

I took a breath, closed off my emotions, and let the scientific mind take temporary control. I could do it. I flatly explained, “Face is obviously beat up, head was slammed from the back, so I might have a concussion. I’m sliced down my front, collar to waist, and I have scratches there too.” I nodded at the peroxide. “All bloody. I need the disinfectant, and it’ll hurt, but they need to be cleaned. I can do that. Simple enough.”

There. I told him. Told Newt. 

Clint just nodded. “Got it all here, even a towel to cover you.” 

He motioned at the mattress, urging me to sit down. “Few more minutes, doc.”

I didn’t want to move. But I knew the cuts needed to be cleaned. I grit my teeth and slowly sat down, telling myself, It’s Clint. It’s just Clint, and Newt, and Jeff. That’s all.

I was shaking, shaking real badly. Had I ever stopped?

“Hey, hey love, you’re okay," Newt told me. "It's just us, you know that?” 

I nodded grimly. Once I had lowered myself down, I nodded to Clint. Immediately, he examined my face like a doctor. Then he twisted my head around a bit, and fingered the blood in my hair. “I need to bandage it. Wrap it up, clean it out.”

I nodded. Head wasn’t chest, or hips. “Good that, doc.” He grabbed some of his tools, and I squeezed my eyes shut as he worked on the back of my head. It stung, but I make sure to hold on to Newt’s hand, rather than push away Clint. My med-jack friend was extremely gentle when he cleaned my face, but it still hurt enough for me to shy away, hissing at him unintentionally. “Sorry,” I murmured. 

“Almost done here, Joan,” Clint promised. He wrapped a bandage around my head, covering the wound in the back and some of the cuts on my forehead. “I uh, I don’t really know what to do for your neck.”

My neck?

Oh right that’s why it hurt so bad. Justin had tried to choke me. 

Correction: He did choke me.

I shrugged. “Me neither.”

“About your chest…”

I looked down. 

“Just gimme the disinfectant, and I’ll do it. Turn around.” He gave me a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol on it, and each boy turned around to give me privacy. It was hard for me to unclench my arms, but I did it. Seeing the cut, I hissed. The blood had stopped flowing, and I could probably have left it alone, but the Glade wasn’t the most sanitary of places, so I wanted it clean. My hand was shaking so badly that I accidentally cut myself with my nails, which apparently were sharp, because they created new bleeding cuts. “Ow,” I yelped, but swabbed them over as well. Making more cuts. “Clint just hand me the bottle, will ya?”

He passed it to me, still facing away. I snatched it up and shook some over my skin. Well, I meant to pour it slowly, but my trembling hand did the work for me, and the liquid ended up splattering over me like raindrops. Satisfied, I set the bottle down. I’d already dropped the swab. I reached for the towel and wrapped it across my torso before giving the boys the ok. In their worry, they turned around a little too quickly, and startled me again.

“Right,” I said, “I’m leaving medic mode now.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the feeling of deep fear and panic overwhelmed me again, and for a few minutes, all I could do was huddle there, trying not to cry anymore, as Newt rocked me back and forth. 

Once I was better, I quietly thanked Clint. He’d helped a lot, even if I wasn’t comfortable with him at the moment.

“Clint, grab her a shirt would you?” asked Newt. “One in my room? T-shirt, nice and loose.” Clint disappeared momentarily, then returned with a dark, big t-shirt and tossed it to Newt, who caught it with one hand.

“Got it?” he asked.

“Just close your eyes, ya?” I didn’t bother asking anyone to turn around again; I trusted them. Once I had his big shirt on, I felt better. More secure. 

“Last thing, Jo,” Clint said, “I need you to eat some food.”

I immediately shook my head. “I’ll only throw it up. Give it to someone else.”

“Can you—”

I cut him off with a sigh. “I’m a med-jack, too, Clint, but I know that I won’t be getting anything down tonight.” He looked at me sadly. “Get something for Newt though, will ya?”

Clint reached outside the door, and someone there must have already had the food, because his hands came back with a bowl of soup. He shared a look with Newt, as if they were talking through their minds. “Here it is, then.” He handed newt the bowl. 

Someone outside started yelling about seeing a Med-Jack. I flinched at the noise, and realized that if I remained in here, I would be seen by anyone who needed to see Clint.

“Newt, can we go back into our room?” I asked.

The shouting got louder, and more voices joined in. I turned into Newt’s chest. “Please, Newt,” I murmured into his shirt. 

“Alright, love, alright,” he promised. “Come on.” Without waiting for me to get up, he gently scooped me up into his arms and carried me out of the Med-Jack room, past Gally, down the short hallway, and into our room. He gently laid me down on my cot, then sat down next to me. 

I sat into his chest. “I just…I don’t really want to see anyone else right now,” I explained. 

“That’s just fine, love,” he assured me. 

Clint popped in to bring back the soup. As he left, he reminded me, “Anything you need, Jo, I’m right next door.” 

Gally’s tall frame shadowed the doorway. “Newt, I’ll stand here. Make sure no one comes in,” he promised. He closed the door behind him.

“Clint,” Nick’s voice called from downstairs. I heard him come up the stairs. His footsteps stopped right outside the door. 

“Nick, what’s your plan?” Clint asked quietly. I heard Nick mutter about talking somewhere else, and then they shuffled away. Gally hopefully was still guarding the door.

“Won’t you have some?” Newt asked, waving the bowl in front of my face.The food smelled revolting. Nothing against Frypan, food just didn’t seem appetizing. In fact, the sight of it made me feel nauseous. 

“Nope,” I tell Newt. “Not even gonna try.”

“That’s alright,” he assured me. “We’ll wait for tomorrow, then.” I nodded to his bowl, telling him to eat. He hesitated, but I insisted. 

It was relaxing, just sitting with him. Like when I first arrived, watching the doors close, and his gentle demeanor calmed me down. I was scared then, but I didn't let it show as much as I was letting it show now. I suppose it was appropriate. I mean, Justin had attacked me. Twice. Newt helped me as I cried in the Maze, and now I was hiding in this room, a bandage wrapped around my head and a fear rooted deep inside me. Still, Newt was comforting. Newt was safe. 

My head was still aching. Once Newt was finished eating, I laid down on the mattress, hoping that it would make me feel better. Everything was hurting. Newt laid down with me, and I twisted around to lay my head on his chest. His warm, safe chest. He gingerly wrapped an arm around me, and I let myself just focus on his breathing. Slow. Steady. Gentle. Safe.

It was so quiet.

Then someone shouted and started running up the stairs, and I immediately sat up, terrified, shaking.

“Shhh, shhh, don’t worry about it, love,” Newt whispered, holding me close. 

I heard two sets of feet sprinting up the stairs, and as they got closer, I got more and more panicked. My breathing quickened and then I was in the forest, Justin was chasing me, I could hear his footfalls pounding heavily on the forest floor, and —

“Gally let me in there!” Minho shouted.

“Stop shouting, ya shank!” came Ben’s plea. He must’ve been following Minho. “You’re gonna scare her!”

“Too late for that,” Newt muttered. I was hugging him, trying to hold on to his safeness, but the memory and the fear caused me to start sobbing again. “It’s okay love, it’s just Ben and Minho, please love, don’t be frightened.”

I wailed.

Gally was furious. “See what you did? She was fine! She spent the whole shucking day crying, now Newt’s just got her all calmed down and feeling safe, and now you run in here and freak her out!” Gally yelled. “Do you know how long it took for her to calm down today? It took _shucking forever!”_

“Gal!” Newt shouted, covering my ears with his hands, so as not to scare me. “All of you! Stop bloody shouting!”

I heard silence on the other side of the door. “Shuck,” Gally muttered. “My fault too.”

I heard Clint say, “What are you all doing? Get away from that door!”

“Gally’s here, why can’t we be? I want to know what happened!” hissed Minho.

“How bad is she?” Ben asked the med-jack in a low voice. “Really, how bad?”

“Bad.”

“How bad?”

“I don’t think she’d want me telling. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Unless she tells me to tell you, I can only tell you what anyone else knows.”

“I’ll kill him,” Minho growled. “Let’s throw him out now, before the Doors close.”

Gally lowered his voice. “I could beat him to a pulp.”

“You did,” Ben pointed out. “Remember? The guy can hardly stand.”

“Good,” approved Gally. “I hope he hurts real bad.”

Ya, but I hurt too.

Shut up Jo don’t be so self-pitying. 

But he hurt you. He tried to do worse, he tried to—

I squirmed against Newt. 

“Boys, will you take it away from the door?” Newt requested. “We can hear every bloody word you’re saying.”

“I’m staying here,” Gally affirmed. “Nobody’s getting past this door.”

I felt safer knowing Gally was waiting for any intruders. He was strong, he’d make sure no one got in. He could take Justin on if he needed to.

“Come on, you shanks,” Nick said, “let’s go for a walk.” He led Minho away. Ben exchanged a word with Gally, then left as well.

I was still crying. 

“Newt?” Gally called through the door.

“Yeah?”

“She okay?”

Newt looked at me. I bit my lip, trying to prove that I was better, but he saw right through me. It wasn’t hard. “Not really,” he admitted. I heard Clint grumble.

“Talk to me, Newt. Distract me.”

He was silent only for a moment before quickly ranting, “Zart had the great idea of asking the Creators for some flower seeds. Thought about what you said, about the Glade needing some more beauty in it, and so he wrote a note for flowers of all types. Roses, daisies, poppies. Not sure about the poppies. Don’t know what that could turn into, ya know? But the roses, they sound good, so do the buttercups, he asked for those too. Any type, really, thought we could have some in front of the homestead, ya know? Something pretty for you to look at each morning.” ”

“Sounds lovely,” I strained.

“Mm,” he agreed. We were quiet for some time.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered at last. 

“No need to be.”

“I didn’t mean for anything like this to happen.”

“Not your fault.”

“I just…”

“What?”

“I just wish I wasn’t so pathetic right now. I feel like a pathetic little damsel who can’t take care of herself and…”

“No. No, love, you are not pathetic. I know that. We all know that. You take care of yourself, you take care of all of us. You were hurt, and it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t your fault, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. I’ll stay right in here with you, and Gally will guard the door.”

“Sounds good.” That makes things easier. Gally was a good guard. Wincing, I slid back down to lie on the mattress. Newt followed suit, and let me put my head back on his chest.

After battling for hours in my head, trying to make sense of the day’s events, I drifted off to his gentle breathing just as the sky began to lighten.

 


	23. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo recovers from the attack. Can she talk about it? Will she ever be alright?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights to to James Dashner.
> 
> Warning: Recovery of and reference to assault. If it’s a trigger, keep skipping. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also thanks to OwlAsphodel for the comment!!! :D

 

 

I woke to aching muscles, the morning sunshine, and Newt. He was still holding me, and I wasn’t sure if he was awake, at first. I had only dozed for an hour or so.

“How do you feel, love?” he asked gently. 

My head was throbbing a bit, my face was definitely puffed up and sensitive to the touch, and my neck felt strained. When I moved, I could feel my cuts threaten to reopen. 

“Not the greatest,” I admitted. We had a small mirror in here, but…“Do I even want to look?”

Newt gently sat up, and I sat too, not daring to look up at him yet, but instead choosing to study my wrists. The bruises were more obvious now, so I was sure my face was similar. A huge mess. “Maybe not,” he advised.

I was silent for a time. 

“Hungry?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Not really. But if you are, we can…we can go down, see Frypan,” I offered, not really sure if I wanted to face the Glade. 

“Do you want to see the boys yet?” He obviously mirrored my thoughts. 

I shrugged again. “Not really.” Realizing how pathetic I was acting, I quickly apologized. “Sorry. I’m not being very helpful.” 

“Jo, love, you don’t need to be sorry. Today is for you. Today, I help you, I help you feel better, I help you feel safe, I help you heal. Alright?”

I nodded. “Okay.” I wondered what I would be doing today, then. Sitting around? No, that didn’t sound right. Maybe I should focus on healing, though, and I’m sure my injuries could get looked after. There was some ointment in the Med-Jack hut that helped with bruises, maybe I should go find that. “Newt?”  
“Yes, love?”

“Can you help me apply some ointment, to my face? In the med-jack hut, I know where some is.”

He looked at me skeptically. “If you let me help you walk.”

I frowned, not sure why I couldn’t walk on my own, but nodded. Slowly, I tried to stand, but as soon as I was upright, the room spun. Luckily, Newt was there to catch me as I started to fall.

“Easy,” he cautioned, and eased me to the ground. “Maybe I should go get it.”

“Um…” I didn't want to be in the room alone. 

Stupid, I told myself. He’d just be in the other room, then he’d be back. 

Justin could come in. 

It was right next door. Only for a minute. 

A minute was all it took last time. A second even, if Justin had a weapon.

Why’d he be able to walk around with a weapon?

He wouldn’t. 

What if he was waiting for Newt outside the door?

Gally was outside the door.

What if Justin was waiting for me?

Don’t be so conceited, I scolded. He wouldn't come for you like that.

Haha, but look at yourself. He did too. 

Well—

“Jo?”

I snapped my head to look at Newt.

“Uh, ya, sure,” I said quickly. He looked concerned. “Go on,” I urged. 

As he disappeared through the door, I became anxious. 

I was alone. Defenseless. Panicking, I looked around the room wildly for a weapon. As footsteps approached the room, footsteps that couldn't be Newt’s, I reached for the only thing available. 

Newt’s empty bowl.

I snatched it, then drew my hand back to chuck it at the intruder when Nick poked his head in through the door. Gally must have thought that our leader was a valid candidate for entering the room. In fact, I heard his heavy footsteps descend the stairs. Nick would be a fine guard. Gally needed food. And sleep.

Seeing me, huddled in myself, terrified, and ready to launch my pathetic excuse for a weapon, brought an unrecognizable expression to his face. Pity? Worry? I didn’t know. He slowly let himself in, and as he approached, I felt myself shaking.

He slowly, very slowly, squatted down in front of me. “I’m gonna take that now,” he nodded to the bowl. He gingerly removed it from my hands, and I let him.

It was just Nick, after all.

He rubbed his face. “Shuck, kid, I should never have let you out before we found him.”

Startled, I glanced to his face, and all I saw was guilt. What had I done? I let him feel guilty, for this? It wasn’t his fault. “Not your fault,” I told him. “And,” I nodded at the bowl, “uh, sorry. I got scared. Newt, he’s getting me some ointment for my face.”

Almost on cue, Newt stepped in the room, pausing only briefly when he saw Nick, before coming to me with the small bottle, and a cotton ball. I heard Clint call Gally into the med-jack hut from outside. “Here, love. Let me?” I nodded hesitantly. “Nick, mate?” Newt began. He gingerly dabbed the ointment around my eyes and on my cheek.

“Ya,” our leader answered. “Still in the Slammer, not saying a thing.”

“Does he need to?”

“I think we all know what he tried to do. Still…” Nick looked at me. “Listen, Jo, we need you to tell us what happened. The details. Can you do that?”

Newt glared at his friend. “Too soon.”

I didn't know what to say. I knew that we needed order in the Glade. I knew that there needed to be a gathering. But I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to go outside. 

All these boys. They each had the potential to hurt me. Any of them. All of them. If I went to a Gathering, they would outnumber me, and they could get to me. I was injured, I couldn’t fight back.

How did this happen? Shuck, I was so weak. I was so stupid. I was stupid to think that I was safe here, the only girl. I was stupid to trust these boys. I was stupid to think I could be nice to everyone and just be their friend. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

These injuries would serve as a reminder that I couldn’t trust anyone.

But I could trust Newt. He helped me. And Clint. They were my friends. I couldn’t distrust them just because of something Justin did. No, I wouldn’t let my heart grow hard against my friends. 

“Jo, kiddo?” I snapped my head up. Nick’s forehead was wrinkled in concern. “I’m sorry, kid. We don’t have to talk about it today. Justin’s stuck in the Slammer, he won’t get out anytime soon.”

Newt put down the ointment bottle. “How can I help you, love?” he asked. “Please tell me how to help you.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just…trying to figure things out. In my head.”

“What things?”

“Why this happened. What I did wrong. Who I can trust.” 

“You can trust us,” Nick promised.

I was silent. Of course I could trust them.

Who’s them? 

“Jo?” 

“You know that, right?”

“We won’t let him get to you again.”

“None of us will.”

I heard a knock. “Hey, how’s the—”

I looked up to see Minho and Ben in the doorway, Minho with his Runner’s harness on. Minho paled when he saw me. “Shuck it. Nick. I’m gonna kill him.”

Boys. I turned away from them all and wrapped my arms around my chest. Considering Minho’s comment, I quickly hid my face. I knew I looked bad. Was I more focused on my friends seeing me like this, or boys, boys who could take advantage of my weakness?

I closed my eyes. I was so confused.

“Get out of here!” Newt hissed. “Can’t you see she’s bloody terrified?”

“Hey! You shanks, away from the shucking door!” Gally’s voice boomed through the hallway. “I thought I told you not to come up here!”

The door closed, but I could hear their argument through the walls. “She’s our friend too, Gally!” defended Ben. “We wanted to see her! You didn’t let us last night!”

“Ya, well what good did it do her? Does she feel better? I shucking heard Newt. She’s shucking scared of us. All of us. That slinthead Justin’s done her in.”

“Why’s she scared of us?” Minho protested. 

Ben cautioned, “You didn’t see her yesterday, when she ran in there.”

Gally was fuming, again. “No, Minho, you didn’t. You shoulda seen how scared she was.. Ran right past me, right into Ben. Fought him, fought Nick. Ran straight to the Maze. Didn’t even want Clint near her. Clint! For shuck’s sake, he’s practically her brother. A shucking med-jack.” 

There was a tense silence.

Gally sighed. “This is so shucked. I’m sorry, shanks. I know you’re worried.”

Gally? Apologizing? To someone other than me?

“S’okay Gal,” said Ben. 

What was this? Manners? Even last night was strained, but there weren’t manners like this.

“Let’s just…I don’t know. I just wish I coulda killed Justin before this happened.”  
“She looks worse than earlier,” Minho said. “Can we please just Banish him tonight?”

“Not until she tells us what happened,” muttered Gally. “I know, I know. Order. If Justin doesn’t tell us, she’ll have to, and frankly I wouldn’t believe a word he said anyways.” He sighed. “I need to go hit something.”

“Gally—”

“Not a Glader!” Gally defended. “I can chop some wood, that always clears my head.”

I heard the door to the Homestead shut. “I need to run,” Minho said to Ben. “I’m gonna go map this stupid maze.”  
“Another thing that doesn’t make sense,” muttered Ben. The door closed again. They were gone. 

“I’ll be right back,” muttered Nick, and he disappeared through the door. I heard him call at the boys. I hoped he wasn’t scolding them.

“Newt?” I asked quietly. 

“Yes?”

“Um…is he…is Justin…will he really be Banished? For this?”

“You don’t think we’ll keep him here? He attacked you.”

I looked down. “I didn’t want anyone to be Banished because of me.”

“Jo, this isn’t your fault. It’s his. He’s Banished because of him, not because of you.”

I still felt guilty. 

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look. When you first came here, we had a Gathering about what would happen if you were attacked because of your gender. It was unanimous, we all voted for a Banishment. Something like that couldn’t be solved with a few nights in the Slammer. You needed to be safe. This? This, we all want to Banish him for. Only, we do need order. We need to know what happened.”  
I sat thinking. They all wanted to keep me safe? I could take care of myself. Well, kind of. I mean, I was attacked…that didn’t turn out too good. But it could have been worse, I told myself. It certainly could have been worse. At least they’re on my side. They want to help me. The least I could do was pull myself together and help them in return.

I could do this. I could tell them. I should tell Newt first. Yeah. I could practice telling him, then I could just look at him the whole time when I told the other keepers, pretend that I was just telling him again. Yeah. Good idea. 

“I can tell you,” I whispered. 

“What was that?”

I turned to face him. “I can tell you what happened. Then I’ll tell the Keepers, as long as I just pretend I’m talking to just you.”

His brown eyes turned soft. “Alright, then.”

“Oh, and um…maybe…if he wants to, Nick can listen…as long as I don’t see him.” I knew that it would help if Nick knew my story before the Gathering, but right now I could only tell Newt. Knowing that Nick might be hearing what I said would be practice for later. When I’d have to pretend that Newt was the only one listening, while knowing everyone else was too.

Newt looked over my head, to the doorway. I knew Nick was there, but I didn’t turn around. 

Newt looked back at me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I got comfortable, or at least as comfortable as I could, with how hurt I was. I sat cross-legged on the mattress. I had to be careful, or I’d have a panic attack while reliving the memory. “Uh, also, just a warning…I may…you know…panic. Don’t worry about it, it’ll go away after awhile. I just, uh…wanted to apologize in advance.”

He took my hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just take your time.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “Okay. Well, like I told you, yesterday morning, there was that shower incident.”

He nodded. “You were so nervous you could’t eat breakfast. And you…haven’t eaten anything since. So, later…”

I frowned. How odd. “Right. Food. Probably good. I’m, uh, sorry…Okay, sure. Story, then food. Then Gathering. Plan?”

He smiled. I loved my plans. “You got it.”

I nodded. “Right then. Um, shower, then I told you, and Nick, and then I just stayed in the Med-Jack hut. Alby was close, but he was also trying to help Nick look for whoever it was. Clint made sure to watch over me, he sent Jeff out whenever a Slicer or Builder got a hangnail or whatever. But then, Jeff wasn’t coming back. It’d been a few hours, and Winston came in, saying that Jeff and another slicer had an accident, had hurt their feet and couldn’t walk, needed a Med-jack over there quick. Clint didn’t want to leave me, so I went with. But then Adam saw us and said the Builders needed a med-Jack, said someone got hurt in the forest, nothing major, but still wanted it checked up on. Clint was really upset, he needed to go the Slicers since there were two more serious injuries, plus Jeff needed to be fixed up so that he could be ready to fix up anyone else, but that meant I needed to get to the Builders. Clint said that he’d just do both, but I said no, I could do it. Gally probably would have noticed if one of his builders had scratches on his face, so I wasn’t too worried.” I shut my eyes. I’d been so stupid. “But it’s not Gally’s fault,” I added quickly. “Or Ben’s, or Clint’s. Or even Adam’s.”

I opened my eyes. Newt was watching me carefully, patiently. “So, I um…I followed Adam to the forest. Then. Oh gosh, Newt, I was so stupid. This really is my fault. I was so dumb, so…naive. I was too trusting, even after that morning, I didn’t think anyone would try anything, ya know? It’s my fault. It’s just what I deserve, all this,” I waved at my injuries, “is punishment for the crime.”

“Crime?” asked Newt, confused.

I nodded. “Being too gullible. I didn’t learn from that morning. I, I don’t know. I just thought that I could help whoever was hurt, that I needed to, that it was my job. It is my job. I love being a Med-Jack. I like trying to help, trying to calm the Gladers down. I’m no leader, but at least I can substitute as a sister, or a mother figure, or something. And I can fix people up, not as well as Clint, but well enough. I like helping.”

“How is that a crime?”

“I don’t know, Newt. I just guess I was too focused on the playing the medic, and not on playing the girl.’

“Playing the girl,” he echoed. “I don’t understand.”

“When we got to the Builders, Gally was in a huff. For one, he couldn’t work much, since his arm was kinda hurt, I mean not real bad, but I wanted him resting it, plus he hadn’t seen Justin all morning, and was pretty ticked off. Ben was amused, was trying to keep Gally’s mind off his injury. Adam said that Justin had been working in the forest, chopping wood, and that he had just cut himself real bad, and that’s why he’d gotten me.”

I felt the need to defend Gally. “See, Gally didn’t know about the shower incident. I wanted only a few people to know. You, Nick. Clint. Alby. That was all. So he didn’t know to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, or anyone with scratches.”

“Yes he did,” corrected Newt. “We all were looking for scratches.”

“Well, he wasn’t looking for someone who wasn’t there. Justin was just working. Just working, nothing suspicious. I know that some days the Builders disappear all day into the woods, no questions asked. I wasn’t worried about that. I was worried about his injury, though, so Adam pointed me in the right direction and off I went, gave Gally a nice wave, told him not to be so fussy.”

“Justin wasn’t injured, was he?”

“Sure he was. But he hadn’t cut himself chopping wood. No. I found him, his back to me, and asked where he was hurt, that I had a Med bag with me and was there to fix him up. He laughed at me, and I just got closer, wondering why the heck he wasn’t turning around. I just kept walking to him, and then, I felt really uneasy since he smelled kind different, but then, then he dropped this syringe, and I thought it was Alfred all over again, so I rushed him, and then I realized the smell was the same smell as this morning, then he turned around and caught me, and I saw his face.”

I tensed, thinking of that moment when everything had become so terrifyingly clear. “He had scratches on his face.”

“So you knew it was him.”

I nodded. “I tried to run, but he threw me up against a tree, and I didn’t scream at first, I wanted to reason with him, I thought maybe it was all a big misunderstanding, but then I was panicking, and my throat closed up and I couldn't even scream if I wanted to, he stole my machete, and that’s when he sliced my top, and it got my skin, too, so…” I looked at my shirt, in the corner. “That’s why I’m wearing your shirt. Then slammed me against the tree, then—”

I had to take a breath, I was panicking.

“Slow, love, slow, you have all day.”

I nodded. “Uh-huh. Slow. Good. Um, anyways, well, he uh, he uh…” I shut my eyes. Well, one eye was basically already shut from being swollen. Newt squeezed my hand. I continued, “He straddled me.” Shuck, it was so embarrassing. It was so terrifying. “Um, I tried screaming, but he started choking me,” I motioned to my neck, “and well, I kinda went out of it. Everything was kinda fuzzy and quiet, but he let go before I passed out. Which was good.

“He was really heavy. Um, it’s probably just because I’m not as strong as you lot, but you boys are just _really_ heavy. Which made it difficult to, ya know, shove him off, especially since he had my hands above my head and all. You boys have big hands too, which is great, but also not so great.” 

I looked at the bruises on my wrists. “He was pretty strong. As a Builder, too, I mean…well and I’m just weak.”  
“You’re not weak, love. He hit your head and bloody strangled you.”

I grimaced. “Ya, I suppose that had something to do with it.” I continued, “Well, he moved his legs, and unzipped his pants, and um…unbuttoned mine, but when he tried to pull them, well, I kneed him. He was startled, so that’s why I had the scratches on my hip, but that was basically it. Oh, and he grabbed my foot, that’s where I lost my shoe, but then I just wanted to get as far away from him as I could, so I ran to the Maze.”

I remembered running into Ben. “Didn’t mean to hurt Ben. Didn’t realize it was him. Or Alby, or Nick.”

“Don’t worry about them, love.”

I nodded. “Well, I asked Nick to let me in the Maze. He didn’t get what I was saying, I guess, but I still went. Just to get where Justin wouldn't go…and, um…that’s all.” Now, in hindsight, the story seemed pathetic. “I suppose it wasn’t that big a deal, but…I’m still terrified. I’m sorry.”

Newt huffed. “Love, he tried to…” He didn’t want to say the word. 

I looked down. I didn’t want to say it either. Giving it a name made it more real. No, no, he just attacked me. And tore my shirt. And tried to pull down my—

“Love?” I was shaking. Bad. Real bad. Shuck, it was all in my head, right? I suddenly wanted to vomit. My head was spinning again, my breathing was too fast. Way too fast. I was sweating. 

He’d almost got me. He had both our pants open, he was almost there, I was almost—

“Clint! Clint get in here now!” I heard Nick shout. Footsteps. Justin’s footsteps? Pounding. Pounding into the forest floor, chasing me, laughing at me, I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t strong enough, he’d get me, he almost had me, he was straddling me, choking me, punching me, had me on the ground, he unzipped his fly, my arms were dead, my shirt was open, I was so exposed, no one could hear me, I couldn’t scream, I was helpless, I was shucked, he was on me, he was there, he was going to do it, he lifted himself up—

I was shrieking, failing my arms, hitting him, because now my arms were free, swatting at whatever I could, then there was a pinch in my arm, and I screamed because it hurt, hurt like a shot, and there were arms around me, Ben’s arms? preventing me from getting away? no Newt’s arms, keeping me safe, I was safe, I was in my room, I was okay, Justin was in the Slammer, Nick was there, look, he was right there making sure Justin wasn't, and Newt was holding me and whispering to me and Clint was there, holding an empty syringe and telling me to calm down, that I was safe, that I was okay, that he’d given me a tranquilizer and that I’d be calm in a minute, even drowsy which would probably be a relief considering I was suddenly, very, very much exhausted and needed to sleep—for just a bit, really only a few minutes—and it wouldn't be for long, not long at all in fact only for about five minutes because it was only enough to calm me down since kiddo you’d been having a panic attack, which was understandable, but don’t worry because we’re gonna keep you safe, okay? Don’t you worry. We’re keeping you safe. We…

 

 

 

“…right here. Okay? I’m not leaving, I’m right here, right here, holding you safe, you don’t have to worry.”

I woke to Newt’s gentle whispers. Slowly, I opened my eyes—or eye—to see his sunlit face hovering above mine. The light was streaming in from the window, and his hair took on a warm honey glow. I was lying in his arms and he was stroking my hair while Clint spoke in hushed tones to Nick, a few feet away. 

“Sorry,” I murmured. “Panicked, didn’t I?”

He smiled sadly. “That’s alright, love.”

I shut my eyes tight. “Shuck. I’m a mess, aren’t I Newt? This whole thing’s a mess.”

“We’ll just stay right here. Safe and sound, alright?”

I shook my head. “No, Newt I just want to get over with this. Move on. Forget it ever happened. We can have the Gathering whenever, just let me get it all out now.”

“Jo,” he cautioned, “I don’t think you’re ready, love. Besides, I don’t think it’s good for your health to go through that again. We can wait.”

Clint and Nick were eyeing me suspiciously, as if I were planning some horrid murder. “I, um…” I didn’t know what to say. No, I didn’t want to talk about it, no I didn’t want to relive the memory, but no I certainly did not want to be causing more trouble. This was pathetic. If any of the boys were attacked, they’d just go to the Gathering and say, “I was attacked, ____ went after me, I tried to get away, he kept after me, we fought.”

Simple. 

Easy. 

“Jo?” Nick asked. He was kneeling next to me. How’d I not notice him come over? And look, there was Clint, standing right behind him. “Look, kiddo, I heard everything. I’ll tell the Keepers what happened, Newt can back me up. It’s not like we don’t believe you, it’s just our system. You stay right here. Jeff’ll be right outside if you need him.”

I would be alone in here? Newt was a Keeper, he needed to be at the Gathering. So would Clint. And Nick. And Gally.

“Can Ben come in here, keep you company?” Nick asked hesitantly. 

Ben was safe. Ben was a Builder, he could fight off anyone. And if Jeff was right outside, I’d have two guards. 

I nodded. “Good that.”

Nick nodded and slipped outside. Clint said, “Jo, the tranquilizer will keep you calmed down for a few hours. If you want, I can give you some medicine, make you fall asleep, when you wake up Newt’ll be back and the Gathering will be done. Do you want that?”

No, that would make me pathetic. And vulnerable.

“Naw. Should be good.”

He nodded and left, calling out for Jeff. Jeff peeked in the door, letting me know he was there. When he saw me, his face grew anxious, but I turned away. “Uh, Newt?” I asked in a small voice.

“Yes, love?”

“Um…whatever Justin says I did…well, I told you the truth. All of it. So if he says anything….”

“None of us will believe it, love.” I nodded, hoping dearly that Justin wouldn’t throw in lies to make it sound like…I don’t know, like I wanted him. 

“Ben’s here, kiddo,” Nick told me. He led the cautious Builder in slowly, and I could see that the ginger-haired boy was concerned. His eyes widened at my condition, but he said nothing. 

“Time for me to go, love,” Newt whispered. “Benny’ll take care of you.” He hugged me, then gently unwrapped himself from around me and stood, leaving me sitting on the mattress. “Be gentle, mate,” he told his friend, then, giving me one last glance, followed Nick out the door. 

I smiled weakly at the Builder. “Hey,” I told him.

“Hey,” he replied, frowning. 

“I know. I look awful.”

He nodded. “Got that right.” 

I looked at my hands. “Yeah. So, um…” I trailed off. I couldn’t really think of any conversation. As a result, we just sat in silence. He seemed to understand that I wasn’t in the mood for talking much anyways. 

I don’t know how long we were there. It must have been a while. Anytime I heard distant shouting from outside, from voices I recognized as Gally’s and Alby’s, Ben was quick to calm me down, hushing me in gentle tones and telling me I was okay. I got fidgety doing nothing, though, but Jeff retrieved something to get my mind off of things. He handed Ben a book, and Ben handed it to me.

It was a small book about emergency medical situations, and post-traumatic stress. I read up on what I should expect, being stressed, and found most of my symptoms listed. Panic. Aversion to touch. Trembling. Fear. Distrust. All to be healed with time. 

I hoped.

 


	24. Banishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is sentenced. Jo, however, feels guilty—and afraid. Unfortunately for her, Justin has one trick left up his sleeve...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Warning: Reference to assault, recovery.  
> Warning: suicidal thoughts
> 
> If these are triggers, keep skipping. 
> 
>  
> 
> Big thank-you to runningwiththewolves for the comment!!!!!! :) :) :)

 

Newt returned some hours later, Nick behind him. I didn’t flinch when they came in, but that might have been because they approached at a snail’s pace, and I watched them with an eagle’s eye the entire time. 

“Alright, Jo,” Newt told me, “we’ve come to a decision. Easy one. He’s gonna be Banished.” I didn’t respond, so he continued, “It’ll be tomorrow night. I want you to be a bit more recovered.”

Jeff spoke from the doorway. “Dinnertime, Jo. I’ll get you some soup.” 

However, I was still processing Newt’s news, and when the soup came, I couldn’t eat it. Eventually it darkened outside. I sent Newt out to eat dinner, and while he was gone I slipped into a cot in the Med-Jack room, so that he could have a night free of me. I tried to sleep. 

Like the night before, I only dozed. Newt came in to check on me, but I pretended I was asleep.

“Jo, I know you’re awake,” he sighed.

“I want you to get some sleep, Newt," I told him, not looking at him. "If I need you, I know where to find you.”

Grumbling, he left me be. I was alone with my thoughts. Later, Clint and Nick checked on me as well, but what bothered me was when Alby came up. He spoke in rapid, hushed tones to Nick outside the door. 

“Shh,” Nick cautioned. “She’s probably awake.” I could feel two sets of eyes on me, but I remained still and pretended I was asleep.

Someone shut the door.

Immediately I got up and stalked across the floor, careful not to make a sound. They went into Alby’s room, but the walls were so thin that I could still make out whispers. I put an ear to the wall to try to hear what they were saying.

“He’s desperate,” Nick assured Alby. Apparently I had already missed the key point in the discussion.

“But he has a point," Alby replied in a panic. "She may, you know.”

“So we watch her.”

“We watched Alfred. Look what happened.”

“It doesn’t change his sentence.”

“Does it change her?”

“I don’t know, Al. I mean, she’s in bad enough shape as it is.”

“But what if…?”

  
Nick didn’t answer immediately. I wished I knew what they were talking about! “Just…I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her.”

“Ask the Creators,” Alby pressed.

Nick snorted humorlessly. “Right. Like they didn't expect this?”

“Worth a try. I’ll send a note tomorrow.”

Alby’s footsteps disappeared down the stairs. I sprinted back into bed just before Nick opened the door to check on me one last time. Seeing me ‘asleep,’ he sighed and wished me sweet dreams, then left. 

I stared out the window for most of the night. I wondered what Justin was thinking, if he knew he was going to be Banished. I wondered what he’d said to get Alby riled up. I wondered if I’d be less scared of him when he was gone. I wondered if he’d be less scary now, behind bars.

Maybe if I talked to him, I’d be able to recover quicker. After all, he couldn’t hurt me anymore.

When the sky became a bit less dark, and I knew that dawn would come in an hour, I rose. No one was in the room with me, so I didn’t have to worry about waking anyone. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, but immediately tripped over something—or someone.

At first I panicked, but I realized that this was my guard. To keep me safe, not to hurt me.

Whoever had been guarding my door leapt to his feet in a flash, ready to take on any unwanted visiter to my room.

“Oof,” I mumbled, steadying myself on the wall. 

“Hey, princess,” Ben greeted me quietly. “What are you doing up?”

I squinted to see him in the dark. This wasn’t very comforting, not being able to see well. “I haven’t slept,” I responded flatly, without really thinking about it. “Um…I just thought I’d go for a walk.”

“You hungry? I can get you some food,” he offered.

“No. Just a walk.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“That’s okay,” I assured him. “Really.”

I could see him shake his head. “Nick’s orders. And Clint’s,” he added, to make his claim more ‘medically’ reasonable.

“Alright then,” I muttered reluctantly. Quietly we made our way down the stairs and out of the Homestead. I wanted to go the Slammer, to see Justin, but I didn’t want Ben with. “Any chance I can ditch you?”

“Nope.”

“Can you take me to the Slammer then?”

He stopped walking. “What did you say?” 

“The Slammer,” I repeated. “To see Justin.”

Ben gaped at me, his eyes wide. “You’ve got to be joking.”

I shrugged. “He said something to Alby earlier. I want to know what it was. Plus, I think seeing him, behind bars where he cannot hurt me, may help put my mind at ease.”

“Are you sure?”

I shrugged again. “No.” I continued to the Slammer. He walked with me, but kept asking if I thought this was really a good idea, if I should ask Clint or Jeff first, or Nick, or anyone who wasn’t me. The torches around the Slammer were like beacons. Bark, our only dog, was there too, like a guard keeping watch. As we approached, Gally, who was one of the non-canine guards, came to meet us, a deep frown on his face.

“Girlie, what the shuck do you think you’re doing here?” He wasn’t unfriendly. He was just shocked.

“I tried to stop her, Gal," Ben defended, "honest I did.”

“I want to talk to him,” I demanded flatly.

Gally frowned even deeper. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Girlie, listen to me. This is not a good idea.”

I looked past him, to the Slammer. Alby was holding the other torch, staying near the makeshift prison. I tried to make out Justin through the wood bars, but I saw nothing, just shadow. The light from the torch bounced off the trees surrounding the prison, making it look like the trunks were glowing. 

I looked back at Gally. “I want to know what he’s been lying about.”

Gally’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

I sighed. “Alby talked to Nick. What I took from the snippets I heard, Justin said something that freaked Alby out. I want to know what, and I’m betting Alby doesn’t want to tell me. Besides, I want to hear it from Justin.”

He bent down so that his eyes were level with mine. “Jo,” he pressed, “No.”

I pushed past him. He was careful not to grab me, but he kept stepping in front of me to block my way. “Jo, I don’t want you near him.”

“I’m not going in there with him!” I defended. “I just want to talk through the bars.”

Alby heard what we were saying as we got closer. The torchlight illuminated everything now, Gally, Ben, Alby, and the Slammer. “No, Jo,” he said as he held out his arm to stop me. “Not a good idea.”

“Listen,” I pleaded. I looked at each of the three boys, hoping they’d understand. “I haven’t slept in days. I can’t eat. I’m terrified of him, I’m terrified of you.”

“Of us?” Alby’s eyes furrowed. 

“You’re all….you all could…” I glared. “Listen. If I see him, locked up, and focus all my fear on him and not you, maybe I can rest easier and actually sleep. When he’s Banished tomorrow—”

“Today,” Gally interjected, glancing at the not-pitch-black sky.

“Today,” I corrected, “then maybe my fear will go with him.”

They all looked doubtful. “Not really sure if that’s reasonable,” Alby told me in his deep, stoic voice.

“At least let me try?” They all shared glances. They spoke without words, which annoyed me because I could tell what they were thinking, but they, like everyone, it seemed, didn’t seem to notice.

“Only a few minutes,” Gally said finally. 

“I won’t need much more,” I promised.

“Wait,” Alby put out his hand. “Jo, listen. He’s been talking. Saying bad stuff.”

“I know. I heard what you told Nick.”

The blood drained from his face, causing his dark complexion to get lighter. “You heard all that, and you still want to see that pice of klunk?”

“I didn’t hear the first part,” I admitted. “But I know whatever it was he said, it unnerved you. And I want to know what it was.”

“No you don’t,” Alby protested. “She-bean, please.”

“Alby. Could it _really_ get any worse?”

“Yes.”

I was surprised at his short retort. “Well, I have a doctor’s note. So there.” With that, I walked past.

“Who? Jeff or Clint?” He ran a few steps to catch up with me. “I’ll be talking with them.”

“Me,” I said flatly. “I’m a med-jack, too.”

I approached the bars. Alby pursed his lips, but illuminated the Slammer with his torch. “Got your wish, slinthead,” he called to Justin reluctantly. “She’s here to see you.”

I snapped my head around to look at Alby. “He wanted to see me?”

He nodded curtly. “I’m right here, she-bean,” he assured me, then took a few steps back, giving me some privacy for talking with Justin.

A shadow in the back of the prison moved. It came closer and closer, until its owner was staring at me through the bars. “Hey, babe,” Justin sneered. He was speaking quiet enough so that Alby couldn’t hear. I took in every awful inch of his bruised and scratched face and felt the terror that had possessed me two days ago. 

He can’t get you, I told myself. 

“You did this to yourself,” I glared. I spoke as quietly as he had. I wanted the guilt of his Banishment off my chest. I let myself channel all my hate and fear into him, not my friends. Not the Gladers who were so bent on trying to help me. “This is your fault. And I hate you.”

“You’re afraid of me.”

“You’re behind bars.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really?” He shot his hands through the wood and grabbed my wrists. I launched away, but his grip was tight. Alby was there before a second had passed, yanking Justin’s hands off and shoving him back inside the Slammer.

“She-bean, get out of here,” he commanded.

“No, Alby,” I said shakily, “I’m fine.” I sat by the bars again, this time a bit farther away. “He doesn’t scare me now,” I lied. Alby retreated, and Justin approached the bars again.

“I’ll always scare you,” he claimed. 

“Not when you’re gone.”

“I won’t be going.”

“You’re being Banished, Justin. You’re done.” It felt cruel to say those words. “I’m sorry,” I said, then frowned. Was it so natural for me to be sorry? I shook my head, invalidating my previous sentiment. “No, I’m not. You did this.”

“So did you,” he said cooly, with a malicious gleam in his eyes. “You know that if I get Banished, it’s on you. It’s on you for seducing me, it’s on you for not telling me you didn’t want it, it’s on you if you let me die.”

A nagging voice in the back of my head agreed. This was my fault. “No,” I protested weakly. “No it’s not. I didn’t do any of that.”

“Yes, it is, babe, and you know it. It was your fault Alfred killed himself. Remember that guilt? Do you want that guilt again? But this time, this time you’d _know_ , without a doubt, that it was your fault.”

I felt my bottom lip tremble, and I wanted to cry. “You did this,” I whimpered. “Not me.”

He laughed humorlessly. “Nope. You think it was hard to live with Alfred’s death? Think of living with mine. You won’t be able to. You, a med-jack, a minder, a girl. You can’t live with that guilt. Do you know what’ll happen? I do. I know that if I get Banished, you’ll feel responsible—because you will be—and then you’ll get depressed, and Newt won’t be able to save you, because you’ll want to keep the burden all your own, because it _is_ your burden, babe, and then? You’ll find whatever it was that Alfred found and you’ll use it on yourself.”

I kept shaking my head, denying his claim, but I knew it had some truth in it. I would feel guilty, I already did.

“You’ve caused so much trouble, Jo. Do you really think they’re not better off without you? Look at Aidan. Look at Alfred. Look at me.”

“No!” I shrieked, pounding my hands on the bars. In a flash, Alby was there, pulling me away.

“What’d he say?” Alby demanded strictly. I didn’t want to answer, but instead kept my eyes fixed on Justin, his eyes gleaming darkly. 

I rushed back at the bars, shoving Alby away. “What can I do? Hmm? They won’t change their minds, any who.”

“They will if they’re worried enough about you,” he pointed out, and then I felt two sharp stings across my left wrist. I pulled back in pain, but in the dim lighting, I couldn’t see what he used to cut me. Quickly, I hid my wounds, pressing my sleeve to my skin. Luckily, Alby didn’t notice.

Justin backed away from the bars. “Get me out of here, Jo. We both know what will happen otherwise.”

 

—

 

All day, I sat in my room, thinking. The guilt was weighing heavily on me, but…it wasn't my fault…? But it may be…and if Justin died, it _would_ be my fault…

I stared at the two cuts he made on my wrist. Why my wrist? What was the point?

“Jo?” Nick’s voice came through the door, startling me. “Jo it’s about time. Did you want to see it?”

I raised my head up from where it rested on my knees. Sunset, already?

I’d decided that it was better for me to see the Banishment, so that I’d know he couldn't come back. “I’m coming,” I sighed quietly. I followed him out, out to the doors. The Keepers were in a semicircle around the opening in the wall, holding long poles. They all had stone-like expressions on their faces, and I was almost scared of them.

Correction. I _was_ scared of them.

Alby caught my eye and raised his eyebrows, as if asking me if I was okay. I knew how hard he tried to protect me from Justin this morning, to stop me from hearing his words. I nodded curtly, trying to reassure him that I was fine, even though I certainly was not. The heaviness in my chest was weighing me down.

Soon, I heard Justin shouting. Gally and Alby were dragging him out, a gag tied around his mouth. Muffled yells came out, but no words were understandable. They brought him to the Doors. Dmitri, keeper of the Bricknicks, lazily tossed a sac of food and tools into the Maze, probably for if Justin tried to survive the night with the Grievers.

Newt was holding one of the poles. It had some leather band around it. There was a button on it that could snap, so that it could be opened and closed. It was attached to the pole with a large staple, and looked terrifying.

It was a collar, I realized. A collar for Justin.

Nick stepped forward and fastened the collar around Justin’s neck as Newt held the pole steady. Then, he spoke, loud and clear. “Justin of the Builders, you have been sentenced to Banishment for the attack on Joan of the Med-jacks. Keepers all know what you were trying to do. We’ve spoken, and you are never going to hurt that girl, or anyone else, again. You’re never coming back.”

Justin got his hands free and yanked off his gag. “She’ll feel guilty! You know she will! She’ll kill herself before the next greenie!” He searched for me in the crowd, and I shrank from his gaze when he finally found me. Other eyes followed his. He gave me a sick, twisted grin. “It’s on you, babe. Two lives, make up for it now, by saving me, or make up for it later, by killing yourself.”

“Keepers to the Banishment Pole!” Nick shouted, his voice hard. Quickly some of the Keepers grasped the pole with the collar on it, gripping the long wood tightly. Others remained holding the poles that worked to push Justin back, but since they were more tightly closed in around him, less poles were needed for that. Newt glanced at me, but I was watching Justin. 

“Think about her!” Justin screamed. His eyes poured into mine. “She already feels guilty enough! Just look at her wrist!”

I froze. Cold fear washed over me, and I couldn't breathe. The cuts. He’d planted evidence. Justin’s smile grew wider when he saw that he was getting at me.

“Kiddo?” Nick asked worriedly. “Jo, what’s he mean?”

I instinctively pulled down the sleeve on my left wrist, before I realized that that was a bad idea. In an instant, Minho had caught up my forearm and yanked down the cloth hiding the two cuts.

“She cut herself,” Minho announced mournfully. I went to yank my hand away, not liking his touch, but he held fast. He showed my cuts to everyone, and I could see the Gladers deflate, unsure of what to do, now.

Ben came up on my other side. “Princess…”

“No!” I shouted, trying to yank my hand away again, but to no avail. “I didn’t cut myself! It was Justin, he cut me this morning!”

“They’re on your left wrist, Jo,” Minho reminded me. “You’re right-handed. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying!” I searched wildly for Newt. His eyes were full of such sadness and disbelief. “Newt. _Please_. Believe me. I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You lied about Aidan,” Alby pointed out. 

I screeched at him, “I’m not cutting!” 

“Jo,” Newt pleaded from a few steps away, his eyes mournful, “Tell me the truth, love. Please.”

I put everything I had into my eyes as I told him, unblinking, “It’s the truth. I didn’t do it. No secrets, no protecting anyone, not even me. I _promise,_ Newt,” I swore through my sudden tears, “I’m not lying. If I wanted pain, I could have just reopened a cut I already had. Justin did this.”

Newt nodded. “Good enough for me.” He locked eyes with Nick, and the leader nodded back. He opened his mouth to speak, but I got in my words first.

“But…” I weakly protested, guilt tugging at me, “I don’t think…don’t push him in!”

Almost as one, the astonished Gladers’ heads whipped around to look at me.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Nick said stoically, glaring unmercifully at Justin, who was starting to panic, “but there are rules here. No harming another Glader. As I said before, Justin is sentenced to Banishment for attacking Jo of the Med-Jacks, and we can’t have that in our Glade. Keepers have spoken. Keepers, push him in!”

The boys holding the Banishment Pole started walking forwards, pushing Justin into the Maze just as the Doors began creaking. Newt had known the exact time it was. The other Keepers kept Justin from lashing out by pushing the other poles into a half-circle around him. He looked half-mad, with the collar around him, and his face bloody from my scratches and bruised from Gally’s beating.

“Can you even look at them?” he shrieked, in desperation, now that his plan had failed. His eyes locked with mine. “They could do it too, you know.” I again became very aware of how many boys were around me.

“Push him in!” Nick shouted again. I could hear the anger in his voice. 

“What’s the point, Jo? Just you wait, babe,” Justin screamed, as the loud creaking of the Doors sounded across the Glade.

“Now!” Nick commanded, and the Keepers thrust the long pole with the collar on it past the Doors. Justin lurched in by his head, the collar forcing him in. He turned around to look at me as the Doors came closer together. 

“One of them will come after you again, just wait!” 

“Hold!” Nick shouted, ignoring him. Justin’s face fell, and now I could see how scared he was, now that his plan failed.

He gave one final shriek, his eyes throwing daggers at me.

The Doors boomed shut.

Minho and Ben let me go, and I dropped to the ground, shaking. 

Justin was gone. But was it over?

 


	25. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo is still haunted by the recent events. What will her nightmares hold?
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Reference to attempted assault (last one!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Huge huge huge thanks to ToxikCherrys16 on the comment! I love fun coincidences like that, hearing that song and reading this. I'm glad you like the story. :)

 

 

“Let me see her,” Clint said as he shoved Minho away. “Jo? Jo talk to me. Oh gosh, you’re all pale. Do you feel lightheaded?”

I did not acknowledge him. My mind was replaying Justin’s final play his final words, his final expression. I knew he was gone, but the ache in my gut wasn’t, the guilt wasn’t, the fear wasn’t. Especially since…

_“Can you even look at them? They could do it too, you know.”_

“Jo!”

My head snapped up. “Huh?”

Clint was there, kneeling next to me, Newt by my side, ready to hold me if I needed. Shuck, I was so needy. I…was so scared, still. And…shuck Justin was as good as dead, and if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be!

“Jo,” Clint emphasized, with eyebrows raised authoritatively, “this is _not_ your fault, you have _no_ reason to worry, and _no one_ , do you hear me? _No one_ will hurt you. _Ever_ again.”

My lip trembled. “I just wish…” I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I wished. I wished Justin wasn’t gone, but then I did. I wanted him away from me, I wanted him out of the Glade, away from me, away from my friends. 

I remembered the way he taunted Alfred.

_“Oooh! I can’t take the memories! Make them go away! Oooh! Ooh, Med-jack, save me!”_

And then I’d punched him, because he deserved it. _“Wait until you get Stung and go through the Changing,”_ I’d hissed at him in my rage _. “Then we’ll see who’s scared and crying.”_

He never went through the Changing, but there was a good chance that tonight he would get Stung.

There was a sure chance that he would die.

That did not make me feel better. Not in any way. Justin getting stung would not make me feel better. Nothing would, not when it came to Alfred’s suicide. 

“You don’t have to feel alright with this, kiddo,” Nick told me. He kneeled in front of me, aside Clint. I did not look at him. “None of us do. We don’t like Banishing Gladers, but this life…we can’t take chances. You know this.” I nodded sadly, and he continued, “It’s not wrong to feel bad about Justin’s death. It shows you’re human, it shows you have compassion. That’s good. That means you’re still you, and it shows that no matter how bad he hurt you, you will recover, kid, and I mean it. Go ahead and feel bad. But don’t, and I mean this even more, _don’t_ feel guilty.”

I sniffled, but nodded my assent. He moved his head so that I was meeting his eyes, careful not to touch me. “Okay, kiddo? Do not. It is not your fault. Promise us.”

“Promise.”

He nodded. “Good that.” He pulled away and stood, and he and all of the boys filed off. Newt urged me to stand as well, which I did, on my own since right now, even his touch startled me, and he and Clint led me back to the Med-Jack hut. Once Clint made sure I was good as I could be, he let Newt take me back to our room.

Once we got in, I just stood there and fell back into my thoughts, I don’t know for how long.

“Jo.” 

I didn’t hear Newt. I was wondering if I could trust these boys. Justin said that one of them would attack me, and I wasn’t so sure he was wrong.

“Jo.”

What if Newt attacked me?

_“Joan.”_

His voice, his lovely accented, gentle voice, finally reached me. I shook out of my stupor and turned to face him, eyes downcast, still nervous. 

He took a hesitant step toward me, leaving some space. He was leaving me room, so that I could decide if I wanted to be near him or not.

I stood there for a few minutes, and neither of us spoke. 

He was a boy.

But he was my friend.

He could hurt me.

But this was _Newt_.

I cautiously stepped forward.

Not close enough to touch, but close enough. Slowly, I lifted my gaze into his worried eyes. “He’s gone, love. He’s gone, and he won’t ever come back.” 

I pursed my lips, still guilty, still afraid.

“And,” Newt stressed, “all threats go with him. You’re safe here. I promise.” I nodded slowly. Newt was right, after all. The Gladers were my friends. “Don’t think of his words. Please, try to let them go.”

I nodded again.  “I’ll try,” I promised softly.

 

—

 

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Again. 

I watched from a distance as Gally crossed of Justin’s name from the wall. Once everyone had left, I went up to it alone and ran my fingers along the jagged line. He was gone. Now, the image of his name flashed in my eyes.

Shuck, I was so tired, but my mind was racing faster than any of the Runners could, and I just could not will myself to fall asleep, no matter how hard I tried. Images of Justin attacking me, then of his face as the Doors closed on him, haunted me.

_“One of them will come after you again, just wait!”_

I shuddered, remembering Justin’s words. “Get out of my head, you slinthead,” I told my memory. 

I could hear the walls changing in the Maze. Justin was out there, or at least he had been. It was late enough now—or, early, depending on what side of midnight this was—that he might be dead already.

Shuck.

Dead.

Because of me.

“You stupid shank, why couldn’t you have let this alone?” I scolded him. “You hung yourself. Not my fault.”

As if he could hear me.

I supposed he, if anyone, deserved it.

 

—

 

I got up when Newt did, not having slept a wink. I ended up talking aloud to myself most of the night, or in my head—the conversations melded into one eventually. I berated myself, then Justin, then reasoned that I was in no way at fault here. I settled on being confused, and realized that that was okay for now.

I followed Newt to the kitchens, but ate nothing. Food still was not appetizing. 

“Love,” Newt said as he packed his lunch into his sack, “you need to eat something. It’s been days.”

Frypan stood next to him, eyeing me carefully. “I can make you anything you want, sista. Eggs, bacon, cake…”

I shrugged. “No thanks. It’s too early for me to eat, anyways.” I saw Frypan and Newt exchange a look, but I did not react. 

“You let me know,” Frypan added before turning back to the stove. He was frying ham slices.

Minho arrived to pack his own lunch, then the two of them went to the Doors. I followed at a short distance. The Doors weren’t open yet, but Nick, Alby—wearing Runner’s gear—and the Runners were all there. I walked up at the back of the group, and no one seemed to notice.

A loud boom sounded, and the Doors lazily creaked open. Alby stepped into the Maze, but the rest of the boys waited. After a few moments, he came back holding something limply in his hand. Once he was in the early morning sunlight, he held it up for us all to see. 

It was the collar. Bloodied and torn, and unattached to Justin. He handed it to Nick, then froze as he caught sight of me. Nick followed his gaze and nodded, and Alby and the Runners took off. 

Nick strode up to me. “Hey, kid,” he greeted. He jerked his head at the Maze and said, “Alby’s looking for any trace if him, but as you can see,” he nodded at the collar, “Justin’s gone.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“Newt said you were up all night. Why don’t you go to the Med-Jack hut and try to get a nap in?”

I frowned. If Newt knew I didn’t sleep, that probably meant he did not sleep much. “Shuck, Nick, I’ll stay there tonight, I don’t want to keep Newt up,” I sighed.

I made my way up to the Med-jack hut and slid onto a cot. I sat there for a while, leaned up against the wall, and no one came in. Just me. I was mostly a ghost that morning, just like the days before. I sat and did nothing, said nothing. 

“You need lunch,” Clint told me out of the blue.

I jumped about a foot. “When did you get in here?” I asked, almost accusingly. Jeff was in the room, too. Since when?     

Clint raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been here all morning. Haven’t you heard us talking?”

I shook my head. I had not noticed them at all. I did, on the other hand, notice the two of them exchange worried glances. “What now?” I asked sharply.

Clint slowly walked up to me, then stood a pace away. “Jo, can you listen to me for a minute? It’s really important that you hear what I—and Jeff—have to say. Alright? Can you listen and wait until we’re done talking before you stress out?”

I pursed my lips, but nodded. 

Clint sat down on the cot across from me, and Jeff joined him. “Jo, it’s been three days. The first day after the attack, you recovered, you told Newt and Nick what happened, and the Keepers had a Gathering. Second day, we watched you to make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid.”

I narrowed by eyes but stayed quiet.

“Don’t take that the wrong way,” Jeff put in, noticing my agitation. “Remember Alfred?”

“Of course I remember Alfred,” I hissed. “That’s why I rushed at Justin! He was holding a shucking syringe!”

“Right,” Clint continued quickly, “so we kept an eye on you. Jeff and me, we read up on anything in this room that had info we needed. Told everyone how you were acting wasn’t unexpected, given the circumstances. Made sure they gave you some space. Yesterday night, Justin was Banished. Minho saw you go up to the name wall when everyone left. I know you’ve got next to no sleep in days, and last night you were talking to yourself. That’s fine. But,” he stressed, “this being Day Three, you have to eat. No food, no sleep, I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

He and Jeff waited for me to speak. Jeff kept his hands folded in his lap, but instead of his usual gentle expression, he was quite serious, and even commanding. He had on his doctor face. Clint, too, didn’t look like he was about to let me have the last word. He was a doctor looking after a patient, and no matter how I argued, he was going to help.

They had both already helped so much.

“Think if you were in our place, Jo,” Jeff suggested. 

I did not need to be reasoned with. I saw enough sense. “Can’t promise I’ll keep it down,” I warned. 

“It’s a start,” Clint smiled, and he got up. “Jeff, stay here in case anyone needs a Med-Jack. I’ll grab you some food, bring it back.” Jeff nodded, and Clint led me downstairs. 

When we got to the tables to eat, Clint sat me down and went to grab lunch. He came back with three sandwiches, one for him and one for Jeff, and one for me. “Start easy,” he told me. 

The food was still revolting. The smell of it made me turn away, causing Clint to frown. “I can get you something else, Jo,” Frypan offered from behind me.

I shook my head, feeling guilty. “No, Fry, this is good.”

I turned to the sandwich reluctantly, but I knew that my body needed food. Still, when I took the first bite, I immediately wanted to spit it out.

“Swallow, Jo,” Clint ordered. “You need it.”

I did as he wanted, and kept taking small bites, but it didn’t feel good to my empty stomach. I finished half the sandwich, but couldn’t handle any more. In fact, I felt sick. Really sick. I stood hurriedly, pushing the bench back as Clint stood as well, a look of concern spread across his face. “Jo?”

I sprinted out of the room and to the nearest bathroom before I threw up. Out came the food, but there was so little of it that soon I was dry retching. That got me crying, and then I was just sitting on the floor. “Jo?” Clint knocked. “Jo are you alright?”

I opened the door sadly. “Not really. I guess I need to start with more water or soup or something.”

“Oh, Jo,” he sighed. “Come on, let me see if we’ve got anything to help you sleep.”

 

—

 

I woke up sweating. Jeff was next to me, flipping through the pages of a book on mental health. When he saw that I was awake, he put it down. 

“I am never taking a sedative again,” I swore. I had been trapped in nightmares, unable to wake or control them. The medicine I had taken for a sound sleep had kept me asleep, but I was not rested. 

Jeff grimaced. “Nightmares?”

I nodded. I had dreamt that Justin came back from the Maze, alive and ready to kill. I dreamed that he threw Newt off a wall in the Maze, and that he commanded a griever to kill Gally. Nick was sprinting frantically through the Maze, lost, Alby disappeared in an army of Grievers, and Minho was running in the Maze at night, the grievers screeching in the distance. 

I stood and took a sip from my cup absentmindedly, the nightmares still flashing through my mind. My mind was groggy from the medicine, and I had a faint memory of hating taking sleep medicine for that exact reason. 

“Jo,” Jeff scolded, as I set down the cup and fell back on my cot, drowsy, “I thought you just said you weren’t going to take that anymore.”

“Shuck,” I muttered as I drifted off again. My cup had the medicine, I remembered, as Ben’s skin turned green in my continuing nightmares. 

 

—

 

When I awoke again, it was dark. Very obviously nighttime, and the sound of the Maze changing invited my nightmares to enter reality. 

“Minho you’d better not ever,” I threatened. Minho in my dream had jumped off of the Cliff. I swung my legs over the side of the cot, meaning to stand up and find some water, but the stress of the dreams and the recent events resulted in an unwelcome waterfall of tears instead.

After a few minutes, a knock came on the door. “Jo?” Newt called. He opened the door a crack. I could barely see him, but I could hear him better.

“Just nightmares, Newt,” I sniffed.

He made his way over to me. He handed me a hankie he must have grabbed. “Wanna talk about them?”

I wiped by eyes and blew my nose. “They were kinda awful,” I warned. When he waited patiently, I began describing the horrors I’d seen. “I dreamt that you were falling. Falling into the Maze from the sky. It was like you’d been dropped from above, not brought up from the Box. Minho, he was jumping off the Cliff, and Alby…well, it wasn’t good either. It was terrifying. All terrifying. Grievers grabbed him at night and…I can still see the green on Ben’s skin…” I shuddered. 

“Listen, love,” he said as he took my hand, “The falling comes from the fall of your emotions. Something had to drop, and I’m your friend, so it was me. Minho in the Maze comes from it thinking of Justin in the Maze. I told you about the Cliff a week ago, that’s why it’s fresh in your mind. Alby being attacked comes because he ran the Maze today, seeking Justin’s remains. Justin was the monster. Alby also would be in your dream because he was with you at the Slammer yesterday morning. Ben was, too, and since you were reading up on the notes we have of the Changing, you dreamed he was Stung.” He nodded, to make his claims final. “Just your imagination. Nothing to worry about.”

I rested my weary head on his shoulder. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he said humorously. “How could you ever doubt me?”

I giggled. He did well to lighten my mood. “Oh, I never did,” I assured him. I laced his fingers through mine, finding comfort in the warmth of his hand. 

“What do you say, love?” He kneeled down in front of me, taking my other hand and holding both of them out in front of me. “Think you wanna come back to your own room? Put this whole mess behind us?”

I stared in the dim light at his eyes. Somehow they caught the light and I could make them out perfectly, and I could see that gleam behind them. What was it? Right now, it didn’t matter. Newt mattered, and getting back to normal, with him at my side, was what mattered. 

Was I ready to go back? Forget Justin?

I stood, taking him with me. 

“Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems that these events are drawn out, I just didn't want such a traumatic thing to be minimized in just one or two chapters. 
> 
>  
> 
> ...yes those nightmares are...more than nightmares.


	26. Happy Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo settles back into normal. What happy surprises are waiting for her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

I eased back into normal. I regained my appetite, and once I really got hungry, Frypan had a near constant stream of food headed my way. I got back into the Med-Jack routine and was comfortable touching the Gladers when they needed treatment. Newt was back to his Running schedule, and we got up together so that I could see him off. I was able to take meals with the boys rather than just in the Med-Jack hut. I took walks without needing to glance over my shoulder, though of course that may have had to do with having my machete back. I slept without nightmares, for the most part. The Track-Hoes gifted me with a lovely flower garden, and I even started looking in books for medicinal flowers and herbs to ask the Creators for.

The nicest surprise? Gally and the Builders were finally able to finish my bathroom. 

“Hey Jo?” Gally entered the Med-Jack room one day, looking for me. Seeing me perched on a table, studying the use of honeysuckles to combat inflammation, his face lit up like a star. “Girlie, it’s done. All done.”

I hopped off the table and set the book down, marking the page with a pencil. “What’s done?”

“Your bathroom.” He waved at me to follow him, and I did, excited. “Just got all the pipes finished, and the soaps and shampoos set out and all. Creators sent up special stuff for you. Some of it’s still in the box, it was pink, so I decided we’d better not touch it.” He held open the door to the Homestead for me. “After you.” I nodded my thanks and exited the building as he continued, “Not after what happened with Minho and those pills. So, you’ll have to unpack some of your girl stuff, but for the most part we’ve got it done.”

As we rounded the corner of the Homestead, from the back, he covered my eyes. “Walk straight. Now turn right, no, Jo, your other right, yes there you go, now stop.” He uncovered my eyes.

Before me lay a small building, bigger than the room Newt and I shared but smaller than the boys’ bathroom. It was wood, with a door that locked from the inside, and it was open for me. There were flowers growing all around it, and a few windows with curtains covering from the inside, to give me privacy. 

“Gally,” I gasped, “It’s beautiful.”

Ben came up behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “Why don’t you step inside, princess?”

I did, gladly. The first room I entered had two bathroom stalls and two sinks—for if and when another girl came up (I hoped!)—with mirrors and lavender-smelling soap bars. There were cupboards for my things and racks for my towels and washcloths. There was also a shelf by a mirror with a brush on it. In an adjoining room, with two small swinging doors that met in the middle was the showers. Small, but with two shower heads in separate stalls. Each stall had a curtain on it, whereas the bathroom stalls had lockable doors. I peeked inside to see lavender scented shampoo and conditioner, and more lavender soap. How on earth I got such nice things I had no idea, considering how dirty our lifestyle was here.

There was even a makeshift tin can vase of flowers at one of the windows. 

My heart swelled with joy and appreciation. I went back outside to the Builders. It seemed that with Justin gone, they were more benevolent. They even looked eager to hear my opinion. One of them looked nervous, as if waiting for my approval but unsure if I’d give it.

“It’s more than I could have wished for,” I beamed at them. “Thank you so much, boys. It’s so lovely. I appreciate all the work you put into this.”

Gally’s face was shining, though the only response he gave was a happy nod. Ben looked more happy. The sunlight glinting off of his ginger hair made him seem even brighter. The other Builders started high-fiving and clapping each other on the backs, leaving only when Gally told them to take a well-deserved break for lunch. He also gave them the rest of the day off. 

I gave him and Ben hugs, surprising even myself. “Thank you,” I said again. Especially for all the doors,” I added.

“I hope you get to share it with another girl soon,” Gally hugged me back. “I know you wish there were another one here, but until then, Jo, we’re here for you.”

I knew he was right. 

I loved having the privacy of my own bathroom. I could shower without worrying about taking too long, or about anyone walking in on me. I could even sing if I wanted to. I could see myself in the mirror, and take time to commit every part of my face to memory. Sure, there was a mirror in my room, but this one was all my own, and I didn’t feel vain or embarrassed looking at it. I could see myself and just make sure I was clean and presentable. 

My brown hair had gotten longer. I didn’t notice much because I had it in a side braid or in a bun so often, but now I could appreciate its length and thickness. My gray-green eyes were bright with happiness. I was tanner than I used to be, and more fit as well. 

I remembered when I first arrived, how scared I had been, not even remembering who I was or what I looked like. Now, here I stood, months later, having come so far. I knew who Jo was. I knew that I was strong and that I could take care of myself, but I had friends to support me if I needed them. I was a usually calm person, good with Newbies and patients, but admittedly, when I lost my temper or got emotional, it wasn’t pretty. I could be myself around these boys, and if anyone, with Newt. I liked helping Gladers, and even if I couldn’t do everything, I did what I could.

And I was okay with that.

I also got more pills, with directions explaining that every three months, I would bleed, then receive more pills and repeat. For my health.

Later on, I spent time admiring the garden Zart planted for me. It was between my bathroom and the Track-Hoe’s garden, and had medicinal herbs and flowers, not just ones for beauty. Ben had made me a bench, so I could sit and study, or sit and stitch up things, or sit and think. 

I saw a beetle blade crawling around, but I didn't feel annoyed or threatened. “I suppose I should thank you for the supplies,” I told it, knowing the Creators were watching. “So, thank you.”

It crawled away.

“Hello, love,” Newt greeted from behind me. I turned to see him, his hair wet from washing. It was late afternoon. The Doors would close soon.

“And how are you today?” I asked, scooting over to make room for him on my bench. 

He smiled, “Just fine,” but I knew that something was off. 

“What is it?” I asked.

He looked startled, but I raised my brows, as if asking _‘You don’t think I know you by now?’_ and he admitted, “I’ve been trying to find patterns in the maps, but I’m not finding anything. Sometimes I think I find something, but nothing ever turns out.”

I drummed my fingers on my knee. Newt was always good at listening to me, and I was happy to do the same, but I could see the trouble. “How much is mapped?”

“Not much,” he confessed. “We get farther every day, but still. The changing at night really messes with us. I’m trying to get the Creators to send up bigger pieces of paper so that we can just continue sketching the routes on the days we run the same ones, rather than just trying to remember it all.” He tapped his skull. “More efficient if we map as we run.”

I nodded, thinking. “You have a scale don’t you?”

He looked at me oddly. “A what now?”

“A scale. You know, a set length on your drawings to represent a greater length. Like, an inch or a centimeter for a mile or whatever.”

He stared off ahead for a while, thinking. I didn’t talk, hoping that whatever he was thinking was some great plan that would ease his troubles. “Jo, you’ve had some of the best ideas we’ve come up with here,” he said finally. “Grief Serum, asking for more medicines, sewing things, calming the Greenies, scales for maps…we should expand your duties as a Minder.”

I chuckled. “You’re funny.” I took his hand in mine. It was warm, and I was not, at the moment. The sun just dipped over the walls, and took its heat with it. I shivered involuntarily.

“Cold, love?” Newt asked, rubbing my hand between both of his.

I shrugged. “I’m just pathetic, I get cold whenever. Nothing to worry about.”

“Now, now,” he scolded, “I can’t have that, can I?” Without even asking, he took off his tan sweatshirt and pulled it over my head for me. 

“Oof! Newt, I don’t want to steal your hoodie!”

He pulled my arms through the sleeves, arguing, “It isn’t stealing if I give it to you, love.”

I glared as he put the hood, which had caught on my head, down over my back. “I always seem to be taking your clothes,” I argued, thinking of what I wore to sleep, and when my clothes were stolen. 

He smiled and put his arm around me, carefully. I let him, and even leaned in to his warmth. “They look better on you,” he said simply. 

I caught Minho smirking from afar. He elbowed Gally, who was standing next to him, and Gally looked over to see Newt and I. I could see him snort, and shake his head, as Minho snickered. “I’m not sure if anyone agrees with you,” I warned, but I didn’t move to take off his sweatshirt.

I hardly realized that the next day was Greenie Day.

It had been a rough month, but I was ready—I hoped I was ready—to get back to my duties.

When Gally threw open the grates, I slid into the Box cautiously. I was a bit uneasy in the dark, but I reminded myself that there was a terrified boy or girl in here who needed me. 

Before I even called out, I was tackled by the Newbie. I fell to the floor with a shriek, and Nick was instantly in the Box with me, ready to attack. It wasn't necessary, however, since the Newbie leapt away the moment I cried out. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized quickly, and in the light, I could make out a slim boy with caramel-colored skin and curly brown hair, around my height, looking terrified and guilty. “I just…I thought I was alone. I didn’t mean to startle you. Um, where am I? Why can’t I remember anything?”

I got to my feet, nodding to let Nick know I was fine. He backed off. I went up to the new boy, saying, “Don’t worry about it. My name is Jo. I know exactly how you feel, I came up not too long ago. You’re in the Glade, or you will be once we get you out of this Box. None of us have memories of what came before here, but you should remember your name soon.”

He looked so nervous. I put my hand on his shoulder tentatively, and he smiled just a teeny bit. “Um…I’m not sure if I remember my name…”

I patted his shoulder. “That’s fine. It’ll come back soon. Why don’t you come out and meet everyone, and I’ll try to explain?”

He agreed. Nick lifted me out, and then the Newbie, and then himself. Once he was on his feet, the Newbie started looking all around, and I saw panic set in. “Hey, it’ll be alright,” I told him quickly. “Okay? Listen to me, I’m here for you.”

“Poor shank got no idea what he’s in for,” someone muttered, but the Newbie heard, and his eyes went wide, and he made to bolt, made to bolt towards the only exit he saw—the Doors.

I rushed at him the moment he started running off, so we ended up on the grass, sprawled. “Please calm down,” I pleaded, “those boys are just messing with you. Please, I can help you, if you let me.”

His eyes were wide and about ready to spill over with tears. “I want to go home,” he moaned.

I pulled him into a hug. “I know, I know you do. Listen to me, I can’t grant every wish, but I can tell you everything I know about this place, and maybe we all can go home someday. That sound good?” He nodded sullenly. “Good,” I breathed. “Then let’s take a walk, and I can answer some questions.”

Once I got him away from the boys, he was more inclined to speak. I knew he needed another hug, and despite my nervousness, I gave him one. He needed to be hugged more than I needed to not be touched. Besides, I was healing. I was fine. 

“I was so alone in there,” he told me, still scared. “It was dark, and there was a pig, and I thought it was some monster ready to kill me!”

I rubbed his shoulder. “No, no, it’s safe here. Just, you can’t go past these Walls.”

He observed them carefully. “Why not?”

“Well,” I began, and I started my routine.

 

—

 

By the end of the Tour, the Newbie was much calmer. We sat on one of the logs near where the Builders were preparing for the Bonfire. Cooper was fiddling with a piece of wood and a small knife in his hands, carving out something or other to calm his nerves.

“Cooper,” he said suddenly.

I turned to him. “What was that?”

A smile slowly stretched across his face. “Cooper. My name! I’m Cooper!”

And then he was whooping for joy, and Gally came over and patted his back, and everyone close by was cheering for him. He was overjoyed, and we could tell. Gally noticed how Cooper kept carving, and asked him if he wanted to help them build the bonfire. Cooper jumped up immediately, and Gally winked at me. Cooper was going to be a Builder or Bricknick, for sure. 

“Another success?” Newt asked, sliding into the empty spot beside me, where Cooper had been moments before.

I hadn’t even noticed that the Runners had returned. “Hey you,” I greeted warmly. “Yes, I think so. I hope so. Look, he’s a natural,” I pointed.

Newt turned to look. There was Cooper, properly building up the bonfire without even needing to be taught. Ben was grinning madly, happy to have an able helper. “Good, then this should be a fantastic party tonight, don’t you think?”

I looked at him oddly. “Why any better than the others?”

He hugged me, and I let him. “I just think we’re past due for some fun.”

The bonfire _was_ fun. Frypan outdid himself on the food—or maybe I had just been so adverse to it recently that it was even better now. Cooper was making friends left and right, which made me feel better. Now that he at least had his name, and the information I had given him, he was less afraid of the Glade.

Soon some of the Builders started playing on drums. They played upbeat ‘music’ but I was not much into the dancing, still. 

“What do you say, love?” Newt asked, holding out his hand. “Dance a bit?”

I grimaced. “Newt I don’t think I’m that good of a dancer…”

He waved off my worries. “Come on, just you and me, we’ll start slow.”

A twinkle in his eye convinced me to say yes, and soon, we were all dancing in a circle around the fire. It was so unexpected, this ease at dancing with these boys—and without any help from Gally’s drink. I was sure to always stay clear of that, only drinking the water I fetched myself. 

The drummers slowed to a calmer tune. Most of the boys sat down, enjoying their meals, and listened to the soothing sounds. Newt, however, caught my eye. I nodded, and he gently put his hand on my waist, careful to make sure I was okay with it, and then clasped his other hand around mine. I put my free hand on his shoulder, which admittedly was a bit of a reach, but it was still nice. 

“Feeling better, love?” he asked as we swayed. The flames cast a gentle glow on his face and his hair, so that he looked like he was shining. The unnamed sparkle behind his eyes was there, and I felt at ease. Whatever it was, it always made me happy.

I smiled at him, nodding. “Much, thanks to you,” I replied softly. It was true. Newt had gotten me through the tough times, and I was going to do the same for him if he ever needed it. I would always be there for him.

As we swayed, my head found its way to his chest, and I rested it there, while he rested his head on mine. I felt safe, wrapped in his protective arms, and I was happy, able to hear his heartbeat and breathe his scent. We just swayed there, holding each other, and I realized with surprise that I almost felt like I was home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boys names come from Wall of Names or TMR database.
> 
> Cooper: Copernicus
> 
>  
> 
> I know, I know, they need to admit their feelings already. Just a little longer, my lovelies. Patience.
> 
> ;)


	27. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo has to help a Runner injured in the Maze. She's not afraid of it, but when something goes wrong, she may be faced with the most dangerous run of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> HUGE thank you to ToxikCherry16 and missbrittanyka for the comments. It is such a compliment when someone reads what I have written and is enthused! I am so honored that you read it all in one sitting! :) 
> 
> Also big thanks to everyone who has read this. 1000+ hits! You guys are the best. :D

 

Another few weeks passed in peace, until the day when Newt and Minho barged into the Med-Jack room, sweaty and breathing heavily. I immediately jumped up, though I was confused at why they were back so soon. It was only just after lunch,  
****

“Stephen’s hurt,” Newt panted. “Something wrong with his head, his eyes look funny, his side’s bleeding, and he hurt his bloody ankle again.”

“Broken?” I asked, snatching up a hot thermos and throwing it into my med bag. 

“Not sure,” he admitted. “Where's Clint?”

“He's dressing burns in the kitchen.”

“What about Jeff?” Minho asked, wiping his forehead with one of my clean towels.

“Minho,” I glared, “that isn't meant to mop up your sweat. And Jeff’s with the track-hoes. I'll come with you.”

But when I got to the door, both boys shook their heads. 

“What?” I scowled, hands on my hips. Minho sent me an apologetic look before Newt answered my question.

“He's still in the Maze.”

“So?”

“So I don't want you in there.” He crossed his arms firmly across his chest and set his jaw.

I raised my brows. “Oh really? So you want Stephen to spend the night with the Grievers?”

“No, I just want one of the lads to treat him.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You don't think I can do it?” I hissed. “You think that because I'm a girl I can't be a proper med-jack?”

Minho hid an amused smirk as Newt spluttered, “No! Come on, Jo, I know you're a bloody fantastic med-jack! I just don't want you in the Maze!”

“Why the shuck not?” I was seething, my voice deadly quiet, yet consumed with rage. “Think I can't handle it? I've been in it before!”

That last part was a bit of an exaggeration. I mean, I'd stepped into the corridor, and hid by the wall, but I hadn't actually run the Maze.

I felt guilty for bringing it up when I saw the pain flash on both boys’ faces. I sighed heavily. “I just mean, I'm not scared to go in. Not if I'm trying to help a Runner, and not if you're there to guide the way.” I glanced out the window. It was sunny and bright. We had plenty of time. 

Newt rubbed his face warily. “Promise you’ll stay with Minho and me?”

I nodded and swung the bag over my shoulder. “Of course! I don't want to get lost in there, ya shank!”

Minho grinned. “We could get lost together,” he teased, eyebrows wagging. Newt glared, but I just chuckled and punched him lightly on the arm. 

As we jogged across the glade, I caught Alby’s eye. “Alby! Let Clint know I've gone to help a Runner. No one else is in the Med-Jack hut!”

He gave me a thumbs up, but frowned at Newt, who shook his head.

The three of us set off. 

—

I stayed right behind Newt as we ran. Minho trailed me. I was worried that I would be going to slow for them, but when Newt slowed us down, Minho commented on my pace. 

“Not too bad, sweetheart!” he smiled. “You could ditch Clint and come run with us every day, if you want. Spend some more time with Newt here.”

I blushed. 

“Minho, don’t give her any ideas,” Newt warned. 

“Hey, I’m just saying—we could use her skills.”

“First Stephen needs her skills. Ah, here we are.” We slowed to a halt after rounding a corner. Ronnie was kneeling next to Stephen, who was laying down flat on the Maze floor. Ronnie’s hands were red with blood, but he was doing well to keep pressure on the side wound. It was bad enough that I’d have to stitch it. Stephen’s ankle was swollen but not pointed in the wrong direction, so it probably wasn’t as bad as it could have been. As I approached, I could see that his vision was off, by the way his eyes swam. I kneeled down next to him and took a flashlight out of my med bag.

“Stephen? It’s Jo. Look straight ahead, okay?”

His eyes didn’t focus as well as they should have, so I deduced a minor concussion. His ankle would have to be dealt with later, in the Med-Jack hut. His side, however, was a different story. “How did this happen?” I asked.

“There was some old stone, for some reason,” Ronnie explained. “He tripped over it—I did too, but I just fell on my butt—but he about faceplanted, but hit his side instead. The jagged rock cut his side, and knocked his head.” Ronnie pointed to his friend’s ankle. “His foot caught under the stone he tripped on, see? That’s why it’s all shucked.”

“Well at least it happened early in the day,” I pointed out. “Here.” I put a cool pack on Stephen’s ankle, then wrapped it in gauze. Next was his side. “Alright, Stephen, this will hurt, but it needs to happen. I have a sedative, but it won’t get to you fast enough, and it won’t do you any good for the walk back.”

He nodded sluggishly. “I can handle it, Jo.”

“Good that,” I responded. “Ronnie, hold him steady for me.” The other runner put both hands on his friend’s shoulders. I used the hot water to rinse my hands, then sterilized them with peroxide before doing the same to his wound. I used clean cloths to wipe away the blood, then sterilized the area once more. Stephen didn’t squirm, which was good. Next I got out a needle and thread, and hoped that the practice I had on cloth would do well enough for stitching up skin.

“Stephen, I need you to stay as still as you can, okay?” He nodded, closing his eyes, as Ronnie pushed more weight on his friend, to help keep him from moving. I threaded the needle, knotted it, cut the ends, and began my work.

I tried to keep the stitches tight, but it wasn’t perfect. I pricked myself once when Stephen squirmed, but he only did so one time. He was very brave. He did not shout at me, or cry, but he laid there and took the pain. I admired him. My sewing got better and better as I got nearer and nearer to being done. 

I hoped this was what I was supposed to be doing.

“Done,” I announced, and cut the thread. My stitching job wasn’t too bad, after all. Still, I wanted to keep his middle wrapped up, so that movement wouldn’t jostle the wound too much. “Ronnie, slowly ease him up.” I caught the Runner under one side, and together Ronnie and I lifted him, so that he wouldn’t have to use his abs. Ronnie let Stephen lean on his shoulder, to keep the weight off of his injured ankle. Once he was up, Newt and Minho stepped closer, ready to help. 

I pursed my lips. “I think we need to carry him.”

Stephen frowned. “What? Why?” 

I pointed to his foot. “No walking on that ankle. If you jump-hop-walk, you’ll risk hurting your side more. I can’t have that.” I thought a moment. “Ronnie, Newt, you grab his shoulders, put each of his on each of yours, and Minho and I can do the same, but put his knees over our shoulders. That way we support his core between us all. And we’ll walk together, so there’s less jostling.”

The boys looked confused. “Why so specific?”

I glared. “Who’s the med-jack here?”

“You,” they said in unison.

“Yes. So, I say we hold them like that. I want him supported best he can be. Specific will keep his side from opening more, and keep his ankle from getting swollen.”

“Alright, truce,” Minho said, putting his hands up. “Come on then, sweetheart, by his knee, as you say.”

I took my position, as did the other boys. “On three,” I commanded, “one, two, three!” As one, we lifted Stephen up, easily, and without causing him much pain—I hoped. “Now, together, step forward left foot, right,” and we continued in a military fashion. Unfortunately, my height made us uneven, and my shorter gait made things awkward. 

“Graham and Carl may be close by,” Minho suggested after a short time. “This is their section.”

“Might be easier if they help hold Stephen, and you keep an eye on him,” Ronnie pointed out, thinking the same thing as Minho.

“Alright,” I grumbled, “Set him down.”

As one, we set Stephen down. I quickly looked him over, but everything was alright. Newt looked down a corridor. “I’ll yell for them, see if they’re close.” He took a step back the way we came, put his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “CARL! GRAHAM! OI, SHANKS, ARE YOU CLOSE?”

His voice echoed off the walls. We all listened, and I heard a faint response, from behind me, and to my left. “There!” I proclaimed happily. 

The other boys frowned. “I didn’t hear anything,” Minho told me.

“Me neither,” the Runners echoed.

I stood, peering down a corridor. “I’m sure I heard Carl, down this way.”

Minho shook his head. “Nope.”

“There he is again!” I exclaimed, only to be met with blank faces. “Oh, let me take a look—just right there, I’m not gonna go get lost, I swear,” I said, and ran ahead, hoping at least one of the other Runners was close and could help carry Stephen. I was sure I heard them. I rounded a corner and—

WHAM.

Something hit me hard, head-on, and I fell backwards. I only saw the tilting of the walls before everything went black.

 

—

 

When I woke, everything felt off. My vision was blurry and couldn’t focus, so I only made out shapes and shadows. My other senses were off, and I could not remember what had happened last. Why could I not remember?

I looked around, squinting in the dim light. All around me, tall stones reached up to the sky.

The Maze.

I was in the Maze. 

The wall to my left gave a loud creak and started moving, and I realized with a cold terror that it was night. 

I was trapped in the Maze, at night.

“Newt!” I called out. Where was he? Where were the Runners? I leapt to my feet in horror. Where was Stephen? He was injured, I needed to treat him!Why was I alone? Did they leave me?

Why would Newt leave me?

The wall to my left began rotating towards me, ready to block my path ahead—or was it behind?—so I sprinted forwards, hoping to return to the Glade.

What was I thinking? The Doors would be closed. The sky up above was getting blacker by the second, and I was totally lost. I had absolutely no idea how to get back, and no one was here to guide me.

“Newt.” I let out a cry, wondering how he could do this to me. He wouldn’t. What had happened that caused him to leave me?  
I stopped running and looked over myself, but I wasn’t hurt. Stephen’s blood painted my shirt, but nothing more, so they wouldn’t have left me thinking I was dead then.

Blood. Stephen was bleeding.

I squinted at the ground, looking for any hint of red. If there was some, then I could follow it like a bread crumb trial.

I felt the ground beneath me with a hand. It was rough and cold, but—aha! There was something wet. I rubbed the moisture between my fingers, but it didn’t feel like blood. It felt slimy, almost like grease.

Clicking behind me made me freeze.

_Grievers._

I launched forward, sprinting for my life as the monster behind me whirred into action, planting its metal legs into the ground in its rush to get after me. It screeched and reached for me, but I didn’t look back. I turned left, then right, then right again, then left, having no idea where to go but trying as hard as I could to get away.

The ivy.

There was plenty of ivy on the walls, but I did not think I would have enough time to climb up before the Griever whirred past and saw me. No, I had to keep running.

A screech to my left sent me sprinting in the opposite direction.

Shuck. Shuck, shuck. How would I survive this?

My mind was racing as fast as my legs. I had the entire night to try to survive. I had Grievers at my back, and I had no light to guide me. Could I hide? Could I find my way back to the Doors? I could not climb the walls to the top, the ivy didn’t reach….

 _Give in, babe,_ a familiar voice called out. The sound echoed through the corridors, making me freeze in my tracks.

“You’re dead,” I whispered. “You’re dead, you got Banished to…”

To the Maze, at night.

Shuck.

“Newt!” I screamed. “Newt where are you?” 

_He left you. They all left you._

Clicking behind me. I took a turn to the right, down a long corridor, before the stone in front of me began shifting. “Why did you leave me?” I begged to know, tears streaming down my face. “Newt, why?”

I felt a tug on my hand, and screeched, but when I looked down, there was nothing there, no Griever as I suspected. It was in my head. I had to fight the Maze, fight how it messed with my mind and how it challenged my body. I had to run, but for how long? 

I ran and ran, always hearing a Griever in the distance. Left, right, straight—the walls changed, I had to go backwards, I heard a Griever, I ran again. At one point I attempted scaling the wall, but my mind was too fuzzy, I couldn’t wrap my hands around the vines well enough, I was not moving fast enough, I would get seen! I jumped back down and ran again. Then—there! Finally, I saw the Doors in front of me. Somehow, _somehow_ I had made it back. 

They were closed tight.

I ran to one of the windows, then shoved my face up against the glass, begging for something to see. 

Newt.

His terrified eyes stared back at me, and he began shouting something, but I could not hear him though the glass.

“Newt!” I slammed my hands on the window. “Why did you leave me?”

He waved his hands frantically, pointing, shouting, until suddenly he froze, and I heard whirring and clicking, right behind me. I turned to see a Griever, not a foot from my face, reared up, ready to strike. I screamed as it launched at me—

“Jo! Wake up!” 

My eyes snapped open and sat up instantly, gasping for breath and gripping firmly onto the hand holding mine.

Newt’s.

He sat right next to me, on a chair by my cot, holding my one hand in both of his, looking anxious. Windows let in some of the fading evening light, and I realized with a jolt that we were in the Med-Jack hut. The cots, the books, the supplies, they were all here, just as I had left them this afternoon.

Clint was watching over Stephen, on the cot next to me. 

As my breathing slowed, I looked back to Newt. “What…what happened?”

He gave me a reassuring look. “You slammed into Graham when we were in the Maze. Fell back, hit your head on the stone, got yourself knocked out. I carried you out, and Graham and Carl helped Minho and Ronnie carry Stephen. We all got back with plenty of time to spare, don’t worry.”

Safe. We were all safe. I was not in the Maze at night, I was not running from a Griever. “Shuck, Newt,” I muttered, “I thought…I had a nightmare that I was in the Maze, at night, alone.”

He frowned. “You thought that was what happened? That I’d just up and left?” I looked down, guilty. “Love, is that why you were talking in your sleep? You kept asking why I’d left you.”

I nodded. “I made it back to the Doors, but they were shut, and you were trying to shout to me through the window, and then a Griever…” I shuddered. “Well, I woke up, and it wasn’t real.” I was still uneasy from the dream, but thankfully, not in any real danger. I realized then that I was terrified of being trapped in a nightmare. Nightmares of my friends being hurt, nightmares of Justin, and nightmares of being trapped in the Maze. When I was trapped in those horrifying dreams, I, well…It scared me.

I shuddered again, and glanced at Stephen, on a cot next to me. “How’s Stephen?” 

Clint looked up at me and said, “Fine, you did a good job stitching up his side. He’ll have to rest his foot again, it didn’t heal properly from last time.”

“Great,” I muttered. I wondered if Stephen should even be Running, with all of his unhealed injuries. If he was not patient and did not let them heal, then he would hurt himself more, and could one day be caught in the Maze with a serious injury.

I shuddered, the nightmares still fresh in my head.

They remained in my head, so that night, Newt held me close, on his cot. “I’m afraid to go to sleep, Newt,” I whispered to him. “What if I’m trapped in another nightmare?”

“If you do, just know that you can wake up, and I will be right here,” he told me softly.

“But what if I can’t wake up?”

He squeezed me in a tight hug. “I’ll wake you.”

That thought comforted me a bit. It relaxed me. I let my head rest on his chest, my arm across his torso, holding him close. He was warm and safe, and kept me from feeling afraid.

How silly I’d been, I thought as I drifted off. He would never leave me. Of course not.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I scare you there? Sorry trying to stay canon, and if no one survived the Maze at night, well, I had to make it a nightmare instead.
> 
> ;) Of course he’d never leave her.


	28. Hold Each Other Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo is a good listener. After a talk with Newt, she realizes that she may think of him as more than just her best friend...
> 
>  
> 
> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for the comments and the kudos! :) Hope you like this update!

 

The next days were easy. Stephen remained in the Med-Jack room, soon joined by Graham. Graham was one of Newt’s Runners that came down with a cold. Well, a fever, actually. I decided that he had been pushing his body too hard with running the Maze, and was not getting enough sleep. His body needed the rest, so I made him spend two days napping and taking it easy rather than going in the Maze. In this life, a fever was not a small issue.

I spent those days with him and Stephen, in between doing rounds to check up on the Gladers. No one was injured too bad, but I knew some of the boys were not too concerned about minor injuries. I, however, knew that some of these minor injuries could become infected and turn into big problems. 

Like Winston, for example. He was in the Bloodhouse, and had a cut on his finger. He’d ignored the cut, but now, now it was oozing. 

An infection.

“Winston,” I scolded, “this is why you come see Med-Jacks. So we can prevent this from getting so bad.”

“Ow!” He yanked his hand away. I was trying to clean his finger, but it was swollen and sensitive to the touch. “That hurts!”

My hair got in my way. I tucked the brown mess into a bun before demanding Winston’s hand back. “Now. Or it’ll get worse.”

He reluctantly complied. However, it was not the cleanest in the Bloodhouse, and I got mud and blood on my dark green three-quarter shirt. Also, some got into my hair, so by the end of the day, I was _so_ ready for a shower. However, when I reached to open the door, it was locked. “Excuse me,” I huffed, “this is _my_ shower. Private. For me. Me and any other shank girl who comes up here, now out, right now!” 

“Calm, girlie, we’re just fixing the pipes!” I heard Gally chuckle from inside. “The water pipes blew a leak this morning, wanted to make sure yours was working fine.”

I put my hands on my hips. “And why is the door locked, then?”

I heard the lock jiggle, and the door swung open to reveal a grinning Ben. “Didn’t want you to walk in and start undressing before you noticed us in here.”

“Oh,” I nodded, “good idea. That’d be awkward.” I leaned against the doorframe, waiting patiently for them to finish their work.

“Just checking the sink, Girlie, then we’re outta here.” Gally was under the sink, messing with the pipes, and his clothes were dripping.

“No rush.”

Ben and I chatted while Gally finished up. “Done!” the keeper proclaimed. “Alright girlie, you let me know if there are any problems, but as you can see,” he motioned to his wet clothes, “we have already tested it.”

“Thanks so much,” I smiled. It was nice to have friends that were skilled in fixing things, like these two were. We all had our skills, I supposed, even for the little training we had had. This was a hard life, but there were good parts, too.

 

—

 

Graham recovered well from his fever, so I told him that he could run the next day if he wanted to, or else he could wait and catch up on rest. Stephen had to remain, for his foot and his side to heal again. Clint got up in the night to check on him, but unfortunately that caused my Keeper to be run-down. Jeff was too, from what I could tell he was having a hard time sleeping these days. I checked up on him often, even when he was not in the Med-Jack hut. 

In fact, I had taken up checking up on the boys often, just before bed, when they were tucked in, after Nick called lights-out. The Keepers and I were the last to go to sleep, so I could act as the Glade Mother and make sure the boys were sleeping before I joined Newt upstairs. Some boys were restless falling asleep, so I would tell them short stories or hum them to sleep sometimes.

I was on my way to meet Newt outside of the Map room that afternoon, but before I could get there, shouting in the dining room made me sprint to see what was going on.

I gasped when I found out.

Minho was juggling two of Frypan’s knives. He threw one up in the air, caught it, and then threw the other in the same moment.

The other Runners, minus Newt who was still in the Map Room, were cheering him on stupidly.

Then he accidentally cut himself. 

The knife in his left hand twisted slightly in the air, and when Minho went to catch it, the blade cut into his palm. Of course, the other knife fell to the ground harmlessly, but now, Minho was bleeding, and I had work to do, bandaging him up and giving him a firm scolding.

As I trudged to the shower that evening, I was busy muttering to myself, scolding Minho for being so careless. Really? I thought, he just _had_ to play with knives? I shook my head. Boys were boys. 

When I reached for the doorknob, I was frustrated to find that it was locked again. “Gally, I told you, the pipes are fine!” I called through the door. 

It swung open not to reveal Gally, but Newt. “Oh. Newt, I—”

His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked downright miserable. “Sorry, love. Just seemed like a nice private place.” He pushed past me, head down, and began to walk away, but now I was concerned.

“Newt, hold up!” I jogged up to him. “Now hang on just a minute here,” I commanded, putting my hand on his chest. He was a mess. I looked around, and saw that no one was looking. “Here, come on, let’s go sit in the forest, nice and private.” He let me lead him into the woods, and once I decided we were far enough from prying ears, I sat him down, right next to a tree, and let him lean against it. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

For a few minutes, he did not say anything. Just sat there, eyes closed, breathing deeply. I was patient with him, knowing that whatever was bothering him was a heavy weight on his shoulders, and would be hard to share. “The bloody Maze,” he huffed at last. “I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand why we’re here. Some nights I wake up and think I’m safe at home, then I realize that I can’t even remember where the bloody hell home is. Is ‘Newt’ even my real name? Sometimes I think, even what I remember is a lie.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Jo, I don’t mean to cry like a buggin’ baby, sometimes it all just gets a little too much.”

I took his hand and scooted closer. “Newt, don’t apologize. I get like that too. Only reason you don’t see me crying all the time is because I have a nice big pillow. Muffles any sound.”

He gave me a small smile. “You don’t think I’m being a stupid shank?”

I shook my head. “We’re human, Newt. We get scared, we get overwhelmed. It’s okay.”

“But really, Jo, why are we here? Do you really think we’re criminals? Did we do something horrible before we got here? I mean, who deserves this life?”

I remembered when I had told him that, after Justin’s attack. Remembering how I felt, scared and hopeless in that Maze, I chose my next words carefully. “Newt, the people we were before now…they don’t exist anymore. Remember that. Who we are now, _they_ are the ones that matter. We don’t have memories, we don’t have pasts, we don’t have families. But we have each other. What you do every day, Running that Maze, you’re helping us to get back what we had. Until that day, this? This is what we’ve got, and for now, it’s _all_ we’ve got.” He smiled at me, and I scooted even closer, then let my head fall on his shoulder. “We’ll be okay, Newt.”

He brought the hand that was not holding mine up around my shoulders and pulled me close. He smelled good. He was warm. He felt safe.

“I hope you're right, love,” he whispered into my hair. His head rested itself on mine, and we ended up talking, just talking, until we fell asleep, holding each other close. 

 

**—**

 

When the morning sunlight began to peek through the trees, I slowly awoke, easing out of sleep while wrapped gently in Newt’s arms. Before I opened my eyes, I listened to the beat of his heart underneath his shirt and let my head rest against his warm, strong chest, its steady rise and fall soothing any worry I might have had.

I felt his hand softly stroke my hair and smiled. “Morning, love,” he whispered tenderly. 

I opened my eyes to see his staring warmly into mine. His lovely brown orbs were bright and shining, and I decided, then, that I wanted his eyes to look like that, always. Happy, unafraid, and completely devoid of sorrow. “Morning,” I replied, also in a gentle whisper. I could feel my own eyes shining, and I knew that I had not been this at peace since I had come up from the Box.

The Glade was still, and we could see it easily from our tree near the edge of the woods. “Hey, you two shanks!” Minho shouted across the grass. Newt and I both hopped to our feet, trying not to look awkward. “It’s time to get moving! Yeesh!”

I felt myself blush. Minho was such a slinthead, why did he have to bring attention to us? 

“I guess that’s our cue,” Newt said dryly. “Come on, love, let’s get some breakfast.”

We walked together. For some reason, half of me felt content, at peace, but the other half felt nervous, jumpy even. I knew it was because of Minho, and the eye rolls he gave me. I ate breakfast in silence, pondering my whacked emotions. Newt and I kept meeting eyes and smiling, but I looked away embarrassedly whenever Minho sighed dramatically.

I kicked him under the table until he shut up, making Newt laugh. His eyes were shining, and he wore this strange new smile. It seemed so…happy.

I walked with the Runners to the Doors, and watched as Newt ran into the Maze, waving at him every time he turned around to look back. When finally he disappeared from sight, I just stood there, thinking.

I had always liked Newt, always trusted him. And sure, I knew that I felt more for him than I did for the other boys. He was the one I loved to be around the most, he was the one who was my best friend. He was, well, Newt. His eyes were the ones I loved to gaze into, his arms were the ones I loved to lay back in, his was the voice I loved to hear.

I knew he was my best friend, but did he think of me as anything more?

“Shuck,” I muttered, rubbing my wrists. Last night, just sitting and talking with him, was the best night I'd had in the Glade. Did he feel the same? 

No one had expressly denied relationships. If anyone spoke of me inappropriately, or made a move and I did not want it, there would be consequences. But what if I was involved romantically with a boy who actually had _real_ feelings for me?

What if I was with Newt?

“Shuck,” I muttered again. Sighing over my dilemma, and the ache in my chest that told me I needed to tell Newt how I felt, I turned to go up to the Homestead, and there in front of me was Nick. His arms were crossed over his chest and a smirk stretched across his face.

“Took you long enough,” he chuckled when he saw my face, which had turned red at the sight of him. He must have seen me waving, and must have heard me cursing. “Finally admitting you’ve got feelings for the shank?”

I blushed deeper. “I’ve always had feelings for him,” I told him, “but now…now I, um. I think they’re more serious, and I, um…”

“They’ve been serious, kiddo, believe me. I could tell.”

I eyed him carefully. “And you’re okay with that?”

He waved his hand, brushing away my concern. “Ah, shuck Jo, we’ve talked about it a hundred times at Gatherings. You’re fine with Newt. Besides, it’d probably cause less trouble if he’s with you. The other shanks won’t try to bother you anymore, not if they’d have Newt to deal with.”

“Wait,” I said, putting my hands on my hips, “I’m a part of the Gatherings, and I’ve never heard you talk about relationships.”

He shrugged, “Some Gatherings are Jo-less. Even Newt-less.”

I glared. “Funny.” 

He smiled and ruffled my hair, until I swatted his hand away and smoothed it back down. “You know, my hair doesn’t like to be mussed, and it doesn’t look good after you mess it up.”

He laughed and pulled me to the Homestead. “Ah, Jo,” he grinned, “he won’t be back for a while, you’ll have plenty of time to fix your hair before then.” Seeing my glare, he just gave me a side-hug. “Young love,” he mused. “Finally, you’re seeing what everyone else has seen for months.”

Was it that obvious?

Clint and Jeff seemed to think so, and spent a good ten minutes laughing at my red face and look of surprise.

 

—

 

As it got closer to the time when the Runners would return, I started feeling butterflies in my stomach. What should I say to Newt? Anything? Anything different? Should I play it cool, should I attempt to flirt, should I be bold?

I shuddered. Be bold? What did I even mean by that? No, I would just…just… “Shuck,” I said into my hands again.

Clint patted my shoulder. “Shuck, Jo, nothing’s different than it was yesterday. Or,” he turned red, “is it?”

I smacked his head. “No, nothing like that, ya shank!” I looked outside the window. “I just don’t know if he, um…if his feelings match mine, that’s all.”

He shook his head, amused. “Do you know how many bets I’ve lost as to when you and Newt would finally get together? He likes you. He’s just been waiting for you to be okay with it.”

I turned around sharply. “What? You mean, this whole time, he’s been waiting for me to be comfortable with a relationship?”

Clint nodded. “You know Newt, always a gentleman. He didn’t want to rush you.”

I rubbed my wrists. “Shuck, I’ve been comfortable with him since Day One, we just never got to Romance, not really, I guess.”

Jeff snorted. “I thought girls were supposed to be the non-blind ones when it came to romance. You two have been unofficially ‘together’ for months.”

I bit my lip. “Shuck, I don’t need titles. I just…I just like being with him. That’s all.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked!!!!! ;) 
> 
>  
> 
> Yes that means his (movie) quote is really hers. :) 


	29. Good Enough For Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo is busy as a Med-Jack, and does not get to see Newt for awhile. This gives her plenty of time to think about her and Newt...
> 
> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

 

Graham had gone out in the Maze with the other Runners today, but his sickness remained. I had moved Stephen to his old room so he could sleep, so it was just us Med-Jacks in the hut. As I was reorganizing the supplies in my med bag, I noticed that Clint kept sneezing. Jeff and I exchanged worried glances, and I decided to ask our Keeper about it. “Clint? You feeling okay?”

He brushed it off. “I'm fine, Jo, don't start fussing.”

However, as the day went on, Clint started sweating and coughing, and Jeff started to sneeze as well.

“Sit down, both of you,” I ordered. “Clint, you've been up too late with Stephen and now you're sick. Jeff, you're run down too and now you’re going to be sick. Both of you need to lay down and take a nap before you get worse.”

Clint protested but relented when under my glare. Jeff saw reason early on and almost immediately fell asleep. I was left to watch over them, and when they started shivering, I was constantly changing wet cloths on their foreheads and making sure their blankets were tucked in.

I hardly noticed Nick come in. “Shuck, Jo, what's the matter with them?”

“Fevers,” I told him, as I rinsed out Jeff’s cloth. “I need to stay with them through the night, make sure it doesn't get worse.”

He sighed. “I'll bring you some dinner.”

“Grab some soup for them for when they wake up, would you?” I knew it was nothing serious, but as the only available med-jack, I wanted to stay with them until they were better.

Even if that meant not seeing Newt. Which might have been a good thing, considering I suddenly did not know how to act around him. I mean, I did, it was just Newt. But, then again, I was worried about the situation. What would this lead to? If we were in a relationship, what would that do to the atmosphere in the Glade?

I shook my head. A relationship? Did he even want that? Did I?

I did. I wanted to be with Newt, more than just as friends. And I had the whole night to convince myself that there was nothing to worry about.

 

—

 

When Jeff woke up in the morning, I was happy to tell him that his fever had broken. As he trudged off to breakfast, I kept a weary eye on Clint, who was still hot. I kept a cool cloth on his head throughout the morning, right up until I heard the Box coming up. 

“Jeff! Look after Clint, I gotta go see the Newbie!” I shouted as I ran out of the Med-Jack hut. Ben was opening the door to the Homestead right when I ran out, and I almost ran into him.

“Greenie!” As if I did not know. He ran with me to the Box, and we got there right as Gally threw open the metal grate. I jumped down into the dark cube, squinting to see any sign of movement. 

“Hello?” I asked. I hoped the Newbie would not hide in fear. So far, no one had, and I had coaxed them all out of the Box easily, before giving them the Tour and answering questions. “My name is Jo. Where are you? I promise, I’m here to help you. I know you don’t remember anything, and trust me, I know how that feels. I went through this, too.”

I waited. 

“I’m Peter,” came a voice. Out of the shadows came a short, young boy, probably thirteen years old, with wavy brown hair and brown eyes. He was thin and a bit scrawny, to be honest.

“Hi, Peter,” I said, and introduced him to his new life.

 

—

 

I did not get to see Newt until the Bonfire that night. I realized that it had been almost two full days since I had really seen him—which was a long time, for us. I found him sitting on a log by the fire, on the opposite side of where Gally was wrestling.

“Hi, stranger,” I greeted. 

His head snapped up, and he broke into grin, his eyes shining. The glow of the flames illuminated his hair, making his head seem golden like the sun. “Well, there you are, love. Haven't seen you in days now.” He patted the seat beside him, and I sat.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Jeff and Clint got sick, and then we got the Newbie.”

He wrapped an arm around me. “That’s alright, love, I feel like I’ve been selfish recently, wanting to spend time with you alone. I know we’re all your friends.”

I leaned into his shoulder. Why had I been nervous, worrying about seeing him? It was Newt. My Newt. He was the one I could always be myself around, the one I never had to worry about.

I hoped we were more than friends.

“But since I wasn’t seeing you,” he said, “I made you this.” He reached into his pocket and took out a leather band. “It’s a bracelet. But I thought, maybe it could be useful, too, so I put a watch under this flap here.” He moved aside a braid of leather to reveal the open face of a clock, just like the ones the Runners wore. “It’s Alfred’s. I thought, since he was your first Newbie, that maybe you’d want something to remember him by.” He handed me the leather trinket. 

I was touched. “Newt…Newt it’s the best gift I could have asked for.” I threw my arms around his neck in a tough embrace. “Thank you so much!” I handed it back to him. “Could you…?”

He nodded gladly. “Of course, love.” I held out my left hand, and he wrapped the leather around it gently, thoughtfully. “There we are.”

I admired it in the light, turning it around and covering and uncovering the clock, marveling at his workmanship. “It’s lovely, Newt. Really.”

He grinned with pride. “I’m glad you like it.” He opened his arms again, and I leaned back into his shoulder, and we talked again, talked about our days, talked about Peter, talked about anything, until Gally saw us.

“Hey, you shanks, join the party!” He dragged us both over to the Wrestling Circle. “Why don’t you two wrestle?”

I was comfortable with Newt. We both laughed and agreed, though I knew already that he’d either let me win or let it end in a tie. “Newt, don’t be too much of a gentleman,” I commanded.

He acted hurt, putting his hand to his chest dramatically. “Me? Never.”

“Go!” Gally shouted, and Newt rushed me. I sidestepped, but he pivoted before reaching the edge of the circle. “Come on, Newt!” Gally shouted as the boys cheered, clapping loudly.

Newt rushed me again, and I met him halfway, tackling his middle and trying to push him to the line of boys. Of course, he was a Runner, which meant he was not only strong but solid, and did not budge. I ran in the sand, my feet moving rapidly, but Newt stood there like I was not doing a thing.

The boys laughed in good humor, encouraging me to keep trying.

I did, laughing too, while complaining, “Why are you not _moving_? I’m putting all my weight into this!”

Newt laughed in response, “I thought you said not to be gentlemanly,” before he caught me by the waist, gently tossing me down, and began tickling my sides.

“Newt!” I squirmed, laughing uncontrollably while trying to push his hands away. He kneeled beside me, allowing me to roll away if I truly felt uncomfortable, but I did not. Instead, I launched up and over, pinning his torso to the ground, kneeling by _his_ side, and tickling _his_ middle, until he sat upright and we both caught each other.

Our faces were inches apart.

We were both breathing heavily and smiling like crazy, but there was something tender to this moment. Something sweet, something much calmer than the thrill of the ‘fight’ we had just been participating in.

I stared dreamily into his warm eyes, the light of the fire casting a glow on the brown irises. Something in those eyes…

Gally cleared his throat, and Newt and I quickly remembered that there were other people alive in this world, people watching us no less, so we stood and moved aside, as the boys clapped, some fighting grins, some smirking.

We sat up that night, after the bonfire, looking up at the sky. Oddly, there were no stars, so we just stared at the darkness, wondering why. We knew that there should be stars. No one else really took notice, but I did, and Newt became intensely curious once I pointed this fact out.

“Let’s make up some stars, then,” he suggested.

“You can’t just ‘make up’ stars, Newt,”  I told him with a giggle. We laid out in the grass near the Bonfire, the dying embers giving us a subtle glow of light. We were away from the sleeping boys, and still where the sky was open, away also from the trees and the walls. The air was cool, so I wore his sweatshirt. We were so close our heads touched, and I could hear every breath he took. He pointed up to my left.

“Sure you can. Let’s say there’s a bright one there. And five smaller ones around it. It’s a flower constellation.”

“Newt.”

“Oh, come on, Jo. Try it.”

I rolled my eyes but could not help smiling. “Alright, then.” I pointed with my left hand, where I wore my new bracelet. “There, right above the walls, there’s a trapezoid. The two brightest stars are at the tip and the top left corner. It’s a Runner’s shoe.”

“Above that,” he said, “there are some faint stars in a line, then four making a bit of a box. Er, a rectangle.”

“A hammer?” I guessed. 

He nodded. “A hammer. Then, one that looks like a pan. Frypan’s pan, the one he makes eggs in.”

“He’s not the only one,” I reminded him playfully, referencing my late-night craving. He laughed beside me, agreeing. That was a fun memory. All memories with Newt were fun memories, I decided, and continued. “Alright, then, there’s a string of stars in the shape of a ‘T.’ It’s a machete.”

“It looks more like a sword,” he argued.

I nudged him. “I’m creating it, I say it’s a machete.”

He scooted in closer. “Well, look over there,” he said in his lovely accent, pointing to empty sky directly above me. “I say there’s a constellation with two squiggly lines that connect. Roughly shaped like an upside-down ‘u.’ Long on the sides, short on the top. Few stars around it.”  
“And what is that?” I asked softly, leaning my head on his shoulder. He was so warm, and gentle, and comforting. And he smelled so good. I could see what he was describing, even if it wasn’t really there. It was there to me, as it was to him.

“It’s us,” he whispered. I felt myself smile, and raised my head so that I could see his eyes.

“Yeah?” I asked, wonder and hope filling my voice and my heart. “You think we’re good enough to be stars?”

“I think we can be anything.”

I could see light in his eyes. I saw that unnamed glint, and along with that, I saw…love.

I tilted my head, resting my forehead on his. His hand moved to gently tuck a strand of my brown hair behind my ear, and mine reached to his opposite shoulder. 

Softly, sweetly, our lips met in a gentle kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘U’ : see Gemini constellation 
> 
>  
> 
> Peter: Peter Cullen
> 
>  
> 
> Ahhhh!!!!!! Finally they kissed! (p.s. that was not what I had planned to write for the first kiss, it just kind of…happened. I was typing, and then I realized, ‘Hey look. They kissed.’)
> 
> The story just writes itself sometimes….Hope you liked. :)


	30. You and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo and Newt are officially together! What does the rest of the Glade have to say about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Thanks to runningwiththewolves, ToxikCherrys16, and missbrittanyka for the comments! I love hearing from you! :) 
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone!!! Love you all.

 

 

“Why are you guys out here?” 

I opened my eyes frustratedly to see the owner of that annoying, accusing voice. Said owner was standing right above us, smirking crazily, eyebrows wagging, hands on his hips, and looking far too happy for this early in the morning. 

Minho.

Newt stirred beside me, instinctively holding me closer, to ensure my safety, before he opened his eyes and squinted at out unwelcome guest. “Minho, what the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Me?” Minho raised his brows, still smirking. “What are _you_ doing, Mr. Keeper. It’s dawn, it’s time to get moving. You two have been out here all night, by the looks of it. You want to whole Glade to wake up and see you?” 

Newt and I sat up. Minho was right; we’d fallen asleep out on the grass, wrapped in each other’s arms, our hands entwined and resting across Newt’s chest. His shoulder had served as my pillow. I’d never slept so well before, that I could remember. 

The morning light was just peeking over the walls. A few other Gladers were up, but most were asleep in their hammocks. The coals of the Bonfire were nearly burnt out. My brown hair was mussed, as were Newt’s golden locks, yet despite the early hour, his eyes were shining, and I knew mine were too.

“Alright, alright,” Newt shushed. “We’re up now. Bugger off.”

Minho gave me a wink, then headed off to the kitchen for breakfast.

I looked sideways at Newt. 

He looked sideways back.

We both smiled. 

“Morning, love,” he greeted playfully, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. 

“Morning, Newt,” I answered, reaching up my hand to grasp his, then leaning my cheek into his open palm, eyes staring into his. “That took a while, didn’t it?”

His eyes were twinkling. “It was worth it,” he assured me. 

Our first kiss.

I had been dreaming about it for weeks, but now the time was right. Well, last night was. Now, now we had to get up and get ready for the morning, or else face Minho’s wrath.

“That it was,” I agreed. He stood, gently pulling me up with him, and we simply stood there a moment, holding each other by the hands, looking into each other’s eyes. “Could we do it again?”

He took a step closer to me, releasing my hands and moving his palms to my cheeks, cupping my face as he bent down to reach his lips to mine. I slid my hands up to his shoulders, using them for support as I stood on my toes to stand closer to him. I tilted my head up, and then our lips met for the second time. Gently, sweetly. Lovingly. 

I was lost in that kiss. Nothing else mattered in that moment but Newt, and how he made my heart beat so fast I thought it would fly from my chest, and how I felt that the stars we had imagined last night were shining all around us, bathing us in their light and blessing us with their radiance. 

When I opened my eyes, there were his, opening just as mine were. His warm, brown orbs were shining like those stars, and something else, that unnamed glint, shining brighter than ever before, like a million little stars comprising a fantastic constellation. 

 

—

 

“For shuck’s sake, JO!” 

“Hmm?” I hummed dreamily. Clint was standing before me, hands on his hips, scowling fiercely. 

“You’re staring off into space, Jo, I’ve been trying to talk to you,” he huffed. Jeff was sitting on a cot behind him, smirking as he relabeled our medicine bottles. There was a half-sewn towel on another cot, where Clint had been working. “I need you to sew this, I can’t, my fingers are too big.”

I smiled absentmindedly, taking his spot and continuing his work with tight, neat stitches.

“What has gotten into you?” Clint demanded in exasperation. “All morning, you’ve been all dreamy and distracted.”

I smiled wider, remembering how Newt kissed me. It felt nice, to be held by him, his lips on mine in a sweet, gentle touch.

“I bet I can guess,” Jeff said, quiet as a mouse, behind his smirk. 

I began humming.

“Well would someone tell me then!” Clint huffed. 

“I’d say his name starts with an ‘N,’ and he’s a Keeper of our most Athletic group…” Jeff hinted.

Realization dawned on Clint’s face, and he looked bored. “Really? You finally kissed him and now you’re all moonstruck?”

“More like star-struck,” I mumbled happily, thinking of our ‘constellation.’ 

“Shuck, Jo,” he shook his head, “it’s not like you haven’t been sleeping together since day one. Ow!” He yelped, hit by my shoe. I was glaring. He spread his hands in surrender, defending, “I didn’t mean it like that, shuck! I just mean, you share a room, and you’ve been close friends and all, and you hug a lot, and whatever, so a kiss isn’t that big of a deal—Ow!” And there went my other shoe, and there went Jeff’s self-control. He burst out laughing, and soon, Clint and I joined in.

Clint tossed me my shoes and sat down. Jeff put down his pencil and bottle, and scooted towards me. “If you’re dying to tell someone, go ahead. We can handle your girlishness by now.”

I grinned and recounted the story. Though it was not as fun as telling a fellow female, my Med-Jack friends did their best to make it seem like they were interested. They knew I missed having another girl around, and I was glad that they degraded themselves to fill in when needed. 

I really don’t think they listened.

Still, I was happy the rest of the day, and I was eager to meet Newt when he returned. His face was shining in the sun when he ran into the Glade, and his eyes were bright and twinkling. I had just finished a quick fix-up with the Slicers—Clint felt I needed real work to get my head back from up in the clouds—and was casually walking past the Doors when he and Minho came through. 

Newt ran right up to me, caught me in his arms, and dipped me backwards in a heated kiss. “Afternoon, love,” he whispered huskily once we parted. He then let me stand up, and I laughed at him. He was grinning cheekily, amusement in his eyes, yet acting all seductive at the same time.

“Newt,” I smiled in greeting, my own eyes shining from the magic of the kiss. I took his hand in mine and kissed it. “And how was your day?”

“Fantastic, knowing I could come back to you.”

I raised my brows. “You’ve always been able to come back to me,” I pointed out.

He smirked. “Yes, love, but now I can come back to those lips,” and caught me in his arms again. 

I loved how his lips felt against mine, gentle and sweet, and how his arms held me, strong and sure, and how I knew that what we had was even stronger than what our friendship was.

We only parted when Minho coughed. We parted, me feeling a bit shy, Newt looking amused. He winked, and I joined in on the amusement. I giggled and gave him a gentle shove, saying, “Go on then, I’ll see you soon.”

Reluctantly, he let Minho drag him to the showers.

I was grinning from ear to ear walking back to the Homestead, walking up the stairs, and walking into the Med-Jack Room.

“Newt’s back,” Jeff announced, and Clint looked confused.

“How do you know?” our Keeper asked.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Well given the look on her face, it’s obvious.”

I hid my smile, but it reached to my eyes, and there was no use. They both laughed at me, but I didn’t care. I got a kiss—two actually—and nothing could take away my smile.

 

—

 

Dinner was interesting. Newt and I sat side by side as normal, our faces betraying our utter joy. Everyone else at our table was either smirking or rolling their eyes, but no one spoke.

Well, until Minho.

“So,” he smirked, eyebrows wagging suggestively, “You two are…?” 

I kicked him under the table. Newt swatted his head and growled, “We’re not buggin’ shagging, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Minho put his hands up in defense. “Never said you were! But you’re, ya know. Together and all?”

Newt and I exchanged smiles and nodded. “Yes, Minho,” I confirmed, “Newt and I are ‘together.’” 

Minho let out a whoop, and before I knew it, he had climbed onto the table. “Minho what are you doing?” I hissed, but he did not care.

“Listen up, shanks!” Minho announced, hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. “Newt and Jo are finally together. Now pay up!”  
I watched in shock as more than a few Gladers—a third, at least, stood up and got into a line before our table.

“Minho what the bloody hell are you doing?” Newt demanded. “You made bets on us?”

Minho held out his hands and started accepting trinkets from the lined-up boys. A small knife here, a hand-carved wood comb there. 

“Shuck yeah I did! We’ve been having running bets for months!”

Newt glared. “And what was this one, that you won?”

Minho inspected a new pencil closely. “That you’d be official before the week was out, but that you’d keep it in your pants.”

Newt stood on the bench and whacked Minho on the head. “Bloody hell, Minho, what kind of bet is that?”

“You’re a gentleman!” Minho squealed, hopping off of the table. “And she’s, well, Jo. Nothing was gonna happen.”

I looked around the room angrily. “And who thought something would?”

Alby handed Minho two leather straps. “For your Running pants,” he explained, then glanced sheepishly at me. “Hey I was just trying to not agree with Minho,” he defended, but received my glare nonetheless. 

Gally gave Minho a whistle. He held his hands up to me, saying, “I was only betting that it would take more than a week. Nothing else.” 

I nodded my approval. “Good that.”

Minho punched Newt lightly on the shoulder. “Yeah, man, most of the bets were on the week or more-than-a-week timeframe. But I’m still proud of you two for not—”

Gally elbowed him and he shut up.

At the end of the night, Minho was the owner of many fine trinkets, most of which were useless, though the knife and the whistle were good tools. I laughed as Minho went over every one of them, as Newt just shook his head and pulled me close.

That night was peaceful. No bad dreams, no restlessness. Just Newt and I in each other’s arms. 

Together.

As I pulled up the sheet, wrapping us in warmth, Newt squeezed me tight. “You know we’re in this together, now, don’t you love?”

I kissed his cheek. “Always have been, Newt.”

He kissed my forehead, and I set my head on his chest. “You and me,” he whispered into my hair, and we drifted off into a gentle sleep. 

 

 


	31. Another Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Jo enjoy time with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> ToxikCherrys16: I'm glad you were grinning! I sure was. Thanks for the comment!!! :D

 

The next weeks were bliss. Not a whole lot changed, since being a couple was not that much different from what we were before we became “official” as Minho so charmingly put it. But we did find more opportunities to kiss, or to hold each other, or to offer small gifts. Using some of the medicinal plants in my garden, I started experimenting with teas and poultices. I found that chamomile tea, from the flowers I had, was quite relaxing, and I was happy to give it to any Glader who had trouble sleeping or calming down.

Newt loved it. In fact, he seemed to have a liking for any tea, so I asked the Creators for more for my best friend. Well, I did not get much, but I could make mint tea, ginger tea—which I wasn’t fond of, unless it was to sooth the tri-monthly cramps, and some type of tea that spelled lovely, but I could not place with any plant. It came in baggies, and turned the tea water a light caramel-color. Newt loved it, and to be honest, so did I. We only had some of it, though, so it was for special occasions. Like, when we were dead tired. Sometimes it helped to wake us up. 

On free days, I helped the Sloppers stitch up clothing, since I needed to practice my skill with a needle in case I needed to sew someone up again, for an injury. They kept me away from buckets, though, because I kept tripping over them, spilling the hot water for laundry. I was sewing one of Newt’s tank tops when I realized, I didn’t know his favorite color. It was either green, orange, or white, I was sure, but which one?

He laughed at me. “White,” he said when I asked. 

I nodded. “Thought it might be. I like green, by the way. A forest-y green. Why do you like white?”

He shrugged. “White is clean. Like snow. Here, not much is clean. I think white would be nice, just a bit of it, not all at once. But something white. Like, snowflakes. Or, something more available here…like, a teacup.”

I nodded, understanding completely. “It’s either gray, green, or brown here,” I observed, thinking of our trees and grass, or the Maze walls. 

He nodded, and kissed me. “Got to work on maps, love,” he said, and scampered off. I turned back, to head to the Med-jack hut for the rest of the afternoon—it was one of Newt’s half-days, which was why he had been back early, and we’d had a nice lunch together—when I ran into Nick.

“Care to take a walk, kiddo?” he asked. I realized I hadn’t really seen Nick lately. His curly light brown hair had gotten a bit longer. It probably needed a trim, soon.

I smiled. “Sure, Nick.” We strolled around the Glade, talking about the situation of things, talking of how it would be Box-day, soon, talking of the atmosphere. 

“You’ve really helped him, you know,” he said as we passed the North Walls. Ernie the Bagger was playing with Bark, as Billy kept watch on the surroundings. I appreciated our Baggers for keeping the Glade safe. In fact, I appreciated everyone. With Justin gone, no one here was that bad.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Newt,” he replied. “He’s always been a fighter, but I could see sometimes, that he wasn’t so sure of himself as he seems. With you here, and with you together now, he’s become less unsure. He’s a stronger Runner, a stronger Keeper. A stronger person.”

I smiled sheepishly and ducked my head. “I don’t think that was all me,” I countered. “Oof,” I muttered, as I tripped over my own feet.

Nick chuckled and steadied me. “Clumsy much?” I glared. He continued, shrugging at my previous modesty. “I think it was all you. You get him. You’re his closest friend, kiddo, and I know he’s yours, too.”

I nodded, noticing Newt across the Glade, exiting from the trees that hid the Map Room. Minho ran up behind him and vaulted onto his shoulders, wrapping his arms around Newt’s chest and his legs around Newt’s waist. Newt stumbled forward, barely keeping his balance, and started swearing colorfully at the Asian Runner. 

I laughed at the scene. Nick did too, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “You help the rest of us, too, kiddo. I see you making rounds at night, tucking the boys in, acting like a mother or sister to them.”

I thought of Peter, and how last night, he was scared about having a nightmare again. Apparently he had had the same one for the past few nights, of lying on a white bed, in a white room, as doctors drilled into his head.

I hugged him close and assured him that it was not real, but I had my suspicions. Could that be the reason we couldn’t remember anything? I didn’t let it show, but his nightmare scared me, too. I hated nightmares, and I hated being trapped in them, unable to wake up.

I realized then that no matter how scared I got, I had to protect the boys. Like a mother. I was the Minder, I had to help them in any way I knew how, and if I could comfort them in a way the older boys could not, I would. It was my duty.

“Just doing what I can, Nick,” I said truthfully. He mussed my hair in a very older-brother way, until I swatted his hand away and smoothed it back down. “Again, my hair doesn’t like to be messed up,” I scolded him, and he chuckled.

“Go on, you crazy little lovebird,” he told me, his blue eyes shining with amusement, “Go rescue him from Minho.”

I did, but scribbled a note to the Creators first—a request.

 

—

 

When Greenie Day came, we had a new boy. I was still hopeful for a girl, but the gender of the newbie was not a concern to me. I was just focused on helping the poor soul. This one was a young boy, the youngest we’d yet had, a small twig of a thing, with pale skin, light blue eyes, and jet-black hair. He had a scar across his cheek, like someone had abused him in the past. Maybe that was why he was so timid, and why he hid in the corner, whimpering, scared to even look at me.

I sat next to him, taking him into my arms and rocking him back and forth. Really, such a small thing, he could only have been twelve at the most, why would he be sent here? 

He hugged me like I was his own mother.

It took a while to get him, Brandon, out of the Box, but I was patient. I explained some things about his new life right there in the lift, but once he was ready, I took him on a slow Tour of the Glade. He was melancholy for the morning and afternoon, but once he met Newt, when my lovely partner came up to me, to meet the Greenie, he relaxed a bit more. He even seemed happy. Well, that was after Newt kissed me, held my hand, and turned me in a circle. I guess that worked well for Brandon. To see a demonstration of affection, to show that there could be happiness in this new life.

It was Frypan who really had the most influence on Brandon. While the new boy was timid, Fry certainly was not, and they seemed to balance each other out in the best of ways.

As Newt and I sat, watching the colorful fire, we smiled over our prediction: that Brandon would be a cook. I leaned into my more-than-friend, and he played with my hair. 

“I have a surprise for you,” I told him quietly. 

“Oh?” he asked, excited. I loved when he was excited, his accented voice was so cheery. 

I shimmed out from under his arm and reached into my Med bag for a small, wrapped box. I handed it to him, beaming, as Minho and Gally peered over at us from the log next to ours. “Asked for something for you.”

He raised his brows and slowly unwrapped the gift. It took forever—he was drawing out the moment almost painfully—but his eyes beamed when he saw the perfect white teacup in his hand.

It was clay, and not of fine quality, but it was white and clean.

Perfect for the teas I made.

“Jo,” he grinned, “I love it. It’s bloody fantastic!” He set if down carefully, then picked me up and spun me around, giving a whoop of joy before setting me down and kissing me sweetly. “Almost like it were from another life.”

I hugged him tightly. “We can get that life, someday, but for now…”

He let me go and extended a hand. “For now, how about a dance?”

I noticed that the music had changed from the upbeat drumming. In fact, there was just one drum, a low, mellow beat, and in exchange for the other drums, there were pipes. I glanced over at the musicians to see Peter, who was no longer the newbie, playing on some handmade pipes. The Builders _were_ good with their hands. 

I took his hand, and soon we were slowly turning in circles, almost as if we knew what we were doing. Had I known how to dance at one point? Well, I knew how to dance with Newt. I could spin and turn, and not step on his feet—thankfully. I was nervous that my clumsiness would get in the way of that. And then, when we were tired of spinning, we just swayed back and forth, my head on his chest, his arms holding me close. 

I wondered what we could be, in another life.

But for now, we could dance.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brandon: Wall of Names, Brandon Carter, Australian physicist 
> 
> Also the unnamed tea is just black tea. I love earl grey, especially with lavender! 


	32. Sky Maps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo finds a Glader in need of a friend. Later, she and Newt watch the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to ToxikCherrys16 and Spoonie for the comments!

 

I woke up in the middle of the night to some unknown sound. I sat up, careful not to wake Newt, listening for whatever it was that woke me up.

“Jo?” Newt muttered, half-awake, sensing my distress. He moved to sit up, but I put my hand on his chest and told him it was okay, to go back to sleep.

I slid out from under the blanket, and off of the mattress I was on. Quietly I pulled on Newt’s sweatshirt, thick leggings that came the day before, and boots before slipping out the door and downstairs, tripping over the last few steps. It was dark! Not my fault. I paused, holding absolutely still, hoping I did not wake anyone. With no movement or noise in the Homestead, other than Alby’s snoring, I crept—as sneakily as I could—outside, in search of the noise.

Once I closed the door noiselessly behind me, I could make out the sound.

Crying.

I listened intently, trying to place where it was coming from, and ruled out the hammocks and grassy area where most of the boys slept. No, this was closer to the Homestead, closer to the window of the room Newt and I shared. 

I saw Brandon, huddled in a ball at the base of the Homestead, on the far side, away from the other boys. He was almost directly under the Stephen’s room, down the hall from mine and Newt’s. He was shaking, head on his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. Trying to muffle the sound. I approached the dark-haired, small boy cautiously, remembering the fear I myself had felt in the past, until I was kneeling in front of him. Gently, so as not to startle him, I put my hand on his shoulder.

He looked up quickly, revealing a tear-stained face only just visible in the dim night light. The moon was out, even if we had no stars, and the silvery glow made his tears shine.

“Hey, Brandon,” I whispered kindly. “May I sit with you for a while?”

He nodded sadly, and I repositioned myself by his side, putting an arm around him and allowing him to hug me tight, his head on my shoulder. “I don’t understand,” he sniffed. “You said the Creators put us here, and we don’t know why. But...why? _Why_ would someone do this to us? What about our families? We have families, don’t we, Jo?”

“Shhh,” I whispered as I rubbed his back, patting him now and then, hoping to console him. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I just don’t know. But I’m sure they’re out there, and they love you. Even if you can’t remember them, they will always love you.” He cried into my—Newt’s—sweatshirt, so I continued talking in my gentle tones. “And even if you don’t remember them, you have us now. We’ll be your friends and your family. We’re here for you.”

He raised his head to meet my eyes. Shuck, he was so little. So young. I mean, I was just a kid, too, just a teenager, but he was a _little_ _kid_. He should _not_ have been sent here. He had such sad, lonely eyes, and I guessed that even Frypan’s friendship and humor hadn’t been enough to calm this boy’s racing thoughts. 

“You’ll be like my family?” he repeated. “Like, brothers and a sister?”

I nodded. “Like brothers and a sister.”

He rested his head on my shoulder again, and I began rocking him back and forth—slowly, gently. We just sat like that for awhile, in the cool night air. “I guess that isn’t so bad,” he decided eventually, through his slowing tears. “You’d be a good sister.”

I felt my heart warm at the thought. “Yeah?” I asked, hoping to encourage him to be hopeful. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “You kinda remind me of…like, Wendy. Or Tinkerbell. From….”

“Peter Pan,” I finished for him. “I guess I am, a bit.”

“Like our new mother,” he said brightly. 

I chuckled. “Don’t go giving up on your own mother,” I cautioned. “I’m not much older than you, you know.”

He hugged me tightly. like a babe clinging to his mother. “But you and Newt. You’re like parents. You make us a family.”

I did not know how to respond. I just kept rocking him back and forth, thinking over his words.

Maybe one day Newt and I could have a family. Maybe we could be parents. 

But until then, we were just kids, too. Until then…

“Well, for now,” I told the boy in my arms, who was calm by now and starting to fall asleep, “we are _all_ your family.”

He nodded into my shoulder, and I kissed the top of his forehead gently. “Time for bed,” I told him in hushed tones, and guided him back to his hammock. I tucked him in. I waited until he was asleep, then I made my way back up to my room.

As I slid onto the mattresses, Newt asked softly, “He asleep?”

I murmured, “Yeah,” and settled my head upon Newt’s chest. He wrapped an arm around me.

“Good that, Jo,” he yawned. “Sweet dreams.”

I nodded my agreement, and drifted off. 

Oddly, my dreams involved Peter Pan’s lost boys, dancing to pipes around a fire, and then Newt and I in a proper house, taking turns with a newborn baby in our nursery.

 

—

 

Brandon was in better spirits the next day. He started off with his first trial job, which was as a Track-Hoe. He was not the best at it, but the next day was better, as a Med-jack. He was not good at that job either, but it gave me some time with him. His third day was the best, with Frypan as a cook. Turned out, his meek disposition was, as I though the first night, balanced out well with Fry’s energy. He helped make a wonderful, hearty soup that night, and I was sure that he would earn his place as a cook before the week was out.

As I was finishing up the delicious dinner, I realized that Newt was gone. I frowned at my friends, who avoided my gaze. “Where’d Newt go?” I asked, somewhat frustrated that I had not noticed earlier. He was my best friend.

Gally sighed and Ben groaned. I looked at them oddly and Minho laughed, saying, “We were trying to distract you so that you wouldn’t notice. Guess we didn’t do such a great job.” 

“Why were you not wanting me to notice?” I asked, somewhat irritated.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Newt said from behind me, amusement in his voice. I turned to see him standing in the doorway to the dining area, with a blanket draped across his shoulder. “Come on, then, love, follow me,” he smiled, and gestured to outside.

What was this?

I followed him. He put his free arm around my shoulder, and I wrapped one arm around his waist, and we walked to the grassy area where we had first kissed. He let me go and spread out the blanket, then invited me to lie down. I did, after clumsily tripping over the blanket. We snuggled in close to each other. 

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” he commented.

I poked his side, laughing. Of course, there were still no stars. “Yes, they are indeed.”

“Shall we name some of the other constellations?” he mused, and I nodded, taking one of his hands in mine, using the other to point at the empty sky. 

“There, I see a glow of light. It’s not just a cluster of stars, it’s a galaxy. The Maze Galaxy.”

He pointed near the top of the North Walls. “There’s one star over there, that doesn't really move. It’s the Compass Star, and it guides us. Maybe it will show us the way home.”

I hoped he was right. I hoped there would be a way home. “And there, I said, pointing across from it, “there’s what looks like a clock. Like a Runner’s watch.”

Newt squinted up at the sky, as if trying to see the constellation better. “What time’s it on?”

I shrugged. “Changes time as the sky moves.”

Newt shook his head. “No, no, it can’t move that much. It has a set time.”

“Fine,” I allowed, “then it’s at ten o’clock in the morning.”

He raised his brow. “There is absolutely nothing exciting about ten o’clock in the morning.”

“It’s a safe time,” I countered. 

He made a _tsk, tsk,_ noise and said, “No, I never look at my watch and see ten o’clock.”

“Alright, Mr. Keeper, what time do you usually see, then?”

He laughed. “Two-fifty. Ten minutes before three, that’s the latest time we can run until Minho and I have to head back.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So what shape is that?”

“Er…a….say, a one forty-ish degree angle?” 

I snorted. “Alright then, a clock at 2:50. I also see a pencil.”

“These are all Runner’s gear,” Newt pointed out. “What about some Med-jack stuff? Like, a…”

I knew what he wanted to say. I knew it might hurt, too. “Syringe?” I said quietly, and he nodded. “For Grief Serum,” I explained, saving us from having to think too hard about Alfred, “to save any Runner that needs to be saved.”

He hugged me tightly. “Nice save, love.”

I hugged him back. “Hope I never have to use it on you.”

“Nah,” he assured me, “I’ll be extra careful.”

Suddenly I had an idea. “Newt, stay here,” I ordered, and leapt from the blanket, sprinting towards the Homestead and disappearing inside a moment, before racing back to him. “Here,” I panted, holding out a paper and a pencil. “Let’s draw out our constellations.”

He sat up excitedly. “Brilliant idea!” 

We spent the rest of the evening doing just that. By the time we decided it was time for bed, we’d made a detailed sky-map of our stars, leaving room for many more as we came up with them.

 

—

 

The next day was slow, but Newt was out, and I was bored. I was not really feeling reading textbooks, so instead I went for a walk around the Glade. When I got to the Bloodhouse, I saw Bark running in circles around Winston, who kept shooing him away.

I walked up to them, offering, “Want me to get him out of your way for a while?”

Winston nodded frantically. “Please. He’s been driving me nuts.”

I laughed good-naturedly and clapped, getting Bark’s attention. He leapt over to me, then proceeded to lick me up and down, covering my legs and my hands with his slobber. But it was okay. He was just happy to see me, after all, and to have some attention. “Come on, boy,” I called, and we went on a jog around the Glade. I only tripped over him twice. We went on another round, then I exercised my arm throwing sticks. I hardly noticed the time passing until Newt returned, and then it was time for dinner. 

The next day was also slow, so I played with Bark again. It became routine for me, on boring days, to run with him around the Glade, and he became very friendly with Newt and I. In fact, if I lost track of time, Bark would notify me when Newt was returning to the Glade. I would just be throwing a stick, or rubbing his belly, or attempting—usually failing—to teach him tricks, when suddenly his ears would perk up, he would sniff the air, and wag his tail in a very specific Newt-is-back fashion. He would lick my hands, then together we would sprint over to the Doors.

Other days, if I was working in the Med-jack hut, a barking from outside would either inform me that Newt was about to run through the Doors, or that he was done with his shower and was approaching the Homestead. 

Whatever the case, Bark was sure to let me know when Newt returned, I almost felt like I was in another life, where I was a country wife when her husband came in from the fields. Ready to embrace him, to settle down for the night, to share a nice dinner, and to read a story to our children.

Wait, what?

I laughed at myself when the thought crossed my mind, as I ran downstairs to meet Newt one day, his hair freshly washed.

“What is it, love?” Newt asked, swinging me around before kissing me sweetly on the lips. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Just imagining us in a different lifestyle, that’s all.”

“Oh?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “Do tell.”

I shrugged, somewhat sheepish. “A country house. Not that I particularly want to live on a farm, it may be too far away to help people, medically that is, but….it would be peaceful. A house, surrounded by greenery—not a city, the constant gray may drive me nuts.”

Newt’s eyes lit up. “A house. That would be nice, love, away from the bustle of a city, if there are still such things in the world.”

“Mmm,” I mused, twirling my fingers around his golden locks, as Bark nudged our feet playfully. 

“Wonder what I could do, for a job, you know, instead of Running.”

Bark’s tail started whipping us. He was too excited. I reached down and patted his side, saying, “I think you could be anything you wanted to be, Newt. Leader, teacher…maybe a psychologist. You’ve seen enough, and you’re a good comforter.”

He pondered the thought. “I hope one day we can seriously consider what jobs we’ll need. One day when we’re out of this bloody place.”

“Another life,” I thought aloud, as Bark ran in circles between our legs, threatening to trip us. “But still together. Ah!” I cried out, as Bark went under my feet, knocking me backwards.

Newt caught me easily, then dipped me backwards, kissing me deeply. “Always together, Jo,” he assured me. “Promise.”

“Do I get a kiss?” Minho asked, invading our moment. 

Newt placed me upright as I giggled. He looked sternly at our friend. “I don’t think so.”

Minho pouted. “Aw, please?”

“Come here,” I told him, prepared to peck his cheek, but Minho just winked at me, then leaped to wrap his arms around Newt’s neck, and kissed Newt on the cheek dramatically. 

“Augh! Minho!” Newt shoved Minho off as I burst out laughing. The cheeky runner pranced off, Bark at his heels, as Newt wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, muttering curses under his breath.

“He’s just teasing,” I said, and Newt smiled. 

“As long as you give me the real thing,” he said, and I nodded, standing on my toes to press my lips to his again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2:50….
> 
> Yes that is significant. But don't be sad. By the end of this story, 250 will no longer be a painful number.


	33. Locked In, Locked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doors are about to close, but two certain Runners are not back yet. Will they return before they are locked out of the Glade? Or will Jo be locked inside, with no way to help her friends? And one friend that is certainly more than that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Thanks to ToxikCherrys16 for your comments! I always love reading your thoughts. 
> 
>  
> 
> ...Hehe be gentle on this chapter. :)

 

A few days had passed. It was almost time for the Doors to close, but for some unfathomable reason, Newt and Minho weren’t back yet. “Please, please,” I muttered, standing inches from the entrance to the Maze, eyes begging the darkness for any glimpse of the Runners.

I couldn’t lose them.

I couldn't lose _Newt_.

“Where the shuck are you?” I hissed. They should have been back hours ago. They should be inside the Maze right now. They should be rinsing off, getting ready for dinner. Newt and I should be talking, holding hands, and exchanging affectionate glances while the other Gladers made jokes.

But he was still in the Maze.

“They’ll make it,” Nick said. I hadn’t noticed as he’d strode up beside me, but there he was, squinting into the dark as I was. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

I did not turn away. I was so worried, and now, with the Doors so close to closing, I could not ignore the deep fear settling into the pit of my stomach. Was there something I could do? Worrying would do nothing, I knew this. Were they hurt? Bleeding? Did they need a Med-jack? Nick would not let me out of the Glade this late in the day. It would be too risky. But then, if there was no hope for me…No. No, he’d make it. He _would_ make it. But it was so late. I didn’t know what to say to Nick. I wanted to beg him to let me go look for Newt. I wanted to scream and tell him to get Newt back right now. But I knew he couldn’t do that.

“Nick, I’m scared,” I squeaked. Fear, pure fear was rolling over me, stronger than any fear I’d felt yet. I was more scared now than when Justin had attacked me, than I had been when I dreamt I was stuck in the Maze at night, than when I had witnessed the Changing. I _had_ to go out and find them.

Gally came up on my other side and kneeled down, his firm gaze set where mine was. “Don’t even think about it, girlie,” he warned. “Can’t let you do it.”

“Do what?” asked Nick, not fully paying attention. 

“Go in there and look for him. Them.”

“She didn’t say she was going to,” Nick countered. 

Gally huffed. “She was thinking it. Of course she’s thinking it. It’s Newt.”

“I’m right here,” I whined, slightly annoyed that he was speaking as if I weren’t next to him, but not entirely concerned because I was more focused on the lack of Runners sprinting towards us at this very moment in time. “Gal I…what can I do? What can we do? Why aren't they back?”

“Can’t go out,” he told me sternly, standing and putting a hand on my shoulder to keep me anchored. “Can’t lose you too. He’d never forgive me for it.”

“ _I_ won’t forgive him if he doesn’t get back in—in—back in—Shuck!” I screamed in frustration and put my head in my hands. I couldn't even say it. If he didn’t get back in time? No, no he would, they both would. 

The sun was starting to dip below the Glade walls now. I could hear as more Gladers gathered behind us, watching, waiting. The air was tense. My breathing was labored, and I could feel sweat gathering on my forehead and coating my palms. I twisted the leather bracelet Newt gave me in my nervousness, not sure of what to do. 

I had to go get them.

I felt a hand on my other shoulder. Nick. “They’ll make it, kid,” he assured me, but I could hear the doubt in his voice. The concern. He did not know if they would make it either. No, I would go out…oh, no. Too late, I realized that there was no chance at all that I could get into the Maze and search for them, even for a minute. Nick, like Gally, was holding me back. 

They pulled me back a step when the Doors rumbled into motion, sliding malevolently across the ground, creaking, groaning, clicking, as panic overcame me. “Newt!” I screamed into the corridor. My voice echoed off the stone, taunting me as the Doors moved closer together, as the hands on my shoulders tightened their grips, as my breathing picked up pace, as my eyes darted all around, begging the darkness to yield to some hint of life, some flicker of hope.

They were so close, the Doors, and I started shrieking, fighting the hands restraining me, just so that I could get closer and peer into the Maze, to see one last glimpse—

_BOOM._

I fell to my knees as the stone locked us inside the Glade.

As the stone locked Newt in the Maze. My _best_ friend. _My Newt._

I could hardly believe the high-pitched shriek echoing off of the walls was my own, but it was. I shrieked and shut my eyes tight, unwilling to accept that Newt was gone. I wrapped my arms around my middle, rocking back and forth, my legs underneath me, my forehead touching the ground, almost as if I were praying. I felt my breath come in strangled gasps, and I as going to be sick, shuck my stomach hurt, my chest hurt, panic overwhelmed me, panic and despair, because Newt was gone, but how could he be gone, he was the shucking Keeper, he knew when the Doors opened and when they closed, he knew the Maze, he knew that I would worry if he wasn’t back early, he knew, _he_ _knew_.

What had gone wrong?

Sobs wracked my body. My tortured mind begged reality to give me a chance, to give Newt and Minho a chance to get back, to get home.

Home?

I wailed. This definitely was not home, but at the same time, it was. This was where the Creators had dropped us, left us to live on our own. They had taken everything from us, even, as Newt suspected, our real names.

They'd taken Newt from me.

“Newt,” I begged through screaming and through tears, which had suddenly began streaming down my cheeks, “please. _Please_.”

Please what? What could he possibly do now that could fix this?

Sobs joined into the screaming, and I tried to cut off emotion, tried to calm down, but I couldn’t, not when Newt was gone.

Suddenly Jeff was there, pulling at me, telling me I needed to calm down, that I needed to come with him, but I was inconsolable. I started pounding at the ground with my fists, but Gally stopped me, so I started pounding on him, but Nick stopped me, so I started clawing my nails across my skin, in some effort to get rid of the pain inside, to put it on the outside.

Nick stopped me there, too, and I felt something inside me beg to shut down, but somehow I saw still awake, I was still alive, when I’d just lost my best friend and wanted to be dead like him.

Jeff held a cup to my lips, telling me to drink, but I knew that it was a sedative, and I did not want to be trapped in an artificial sleep, where nightmares never ended. I turned my face, refusing, but he kept pressing for me to drink.

“Jo, you have to calm down, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Jeff protested.

“Kiddo,” Nick pleaded, “drink it.”

I sobbed and shook my head, fighting them all, but I was betrayed, betrayed by a sting in my arm that meant Jeff had injected me with a sedative. I looked over at him with wide eyes, but he just looked sad, sad that I was so inconsolable. My vision started to blur, despite how I fought it. I became weak. Nick held me, shushing me, but I just stared dejectedly at them all. They had betrayed me. They had sentenced me to the unbearable horrors that my nightmares would give me.

As I fell asleep, I only hoped that the sedative only lasted a few minutes.

 

—

 

I woke quickly, running from my nightmares, nightmares of Newt sprinting for his life from a Griever in the dead of night, and immediately resumed my crying.

Strong arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, holding me close. Strong arms pulled me back into a solid, warm chest, but I kept crying and screeching again, and holding my aching stomach, where panic and dread sank down, making me feel so frightened I felt like I would be sick. 

I must have been imagining, or so overcome by grief that my mind changed reality for me. Perhaps my nightmares followed me into my wakefulness. Because these? These were Newt’s arms, I’d spent enough nights wrapped up in them to know how they felt, but Newt was gone. Still, his strong arms rocked me back and forth, as his gentle hands stroked my hair, and his soothing words tried to calm me down.

My eyes remained shut tight, keeping out any sights that could confirm my fear. I did not want to see the closed Doors, I did not want to see a solemn Nick, I did not want to see a Newt-less Glade. I did not want to see who was really holding me and see that it was not Newt.

The soothing tones of whoever was holding me quieted my sobs. I began hearing words, words that eased the terrors. 

“Shhhhh,” the soft voice murmured. “Shhhhh, love, it’s alright, I’m right here. Shhhhh, shhhhh.”

Newt’s voice. 

My eyes shot open and I whirled around to see Newt, _my Newt_ , his beautiful face inches from mine, his steady arms holding me close, his lovely brown eyes filled with concern. “I’m okay, love,” he promised me softly, “I’m fine, we made it back, we’re here, we’re safe.

My mind wouldn’t imagine something this, I realized. 

I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. His scent wafted into my nose and there was no doubt in my mind that this, this _was_ my Newt. “The Doors,” I managed through breaths and tears, “they closed, I watched them!” I hugged him tight, as tight as I could, refusing to let him go. Never again. I would not lose him.

His big hands rubbed circles into my back as he said, almost with a chuckle, “Love, there are four sets of Doors, remember?”

Four entrances to the Maze. Four ways for him to return. “Why didn’t you come get me?” I sniffled. He’d scared me so badly. I had thought I had lost him.

“Er, that was Minho’s fault.”

I tensed, and a flicker of rage passed over my face. “How so?” I demanded. Already, my relief was transforming into a boiling fury. How dare he scare me like this? He was safe in the Glade and he had let me think he was gone?

“He, er, we, that is, got dehydrated, we forgot to grab extra water today, and we started getting really bad headaches, see? We got back and went straight to the Med-jack room and, well, you were out.”

Still hugging him tightly, I growled. “How is that my fault?”

“It’s not, love, but we, er, fell asleep. Minho, he, er, convinced me to let you finish your jobs, that you’d be back soon, and I could take a nap while I waited for you.” 

I roughly shoved him away from me. Quickly he released me from his arms, sensing that something was wrong. “YOU WERE TAKING A SHUCKING NAP WHILE I STOOD HERE AND THOUGHT YOU WERE BLEEDING OUT IN THE MAZE?!” 

He held out his hands to try to calm me down, but I swatted them away. When I stood, Gally was there, hands on my shoulders, telling me to be calm, telling me it was a misunderstanding, but I’d had quite enough.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!” I screamed at him, and Nick, who attempted to grab my swinging hands. 

“Jo,” Newt began, “I swear I didn’t mean to worry you, Minho thought it would be fine—Jo? Where are you going?”

I started marching in the direction of the Homestead, ready to have a word with Minho. A couple words, actually. However, a pull in my chest, and a reminder of the panic and sorrow I’d just experienced, made me turn around. I marched back, grabbed Newt’s hand, and then again headed towards Minho, towing Newt with me.

“Jo?” He walked alongside me, not protesting, but was thoroughly confused. 

“Just because I’m shucking _pissed off_ doesn’t mean I’m ever letting you out of my sight again,” I growled. I stopped a moment, reached up and grabbed his collar in one hand, and stared up into his warm, brown eyes. “Do not _EVER_ scare me like that again, do you understand?!” 

He nodded, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Swear it, love.”

“Good. Now come on,” I demanded, as if he wasn’t walking next to me freely. I was not dragging him anymore, since his legs were longer and his pace faster, but he let me lead the way. When we got to the Homestead, I tripped going up the stairs, almost blind with rage. Newt steadied me, trying to help.“I’m fine!” I barked at him, though I never let go of his hand.

I didn’t let go until I pushed the door to the Med-jack room open to see Minho sitting on a cot, a hammer pointed straight at me, fear in his eyes. “Wasn’t my fault!” he defended, as I cleared the distance between us with a few steps. Easily, I yanked the hammer away and threw it across the room, where it landed on a cot by the window. 

“You slinthead I thought you were both _dead!”_ I reached for his ear and used it to hold his face steady as I looked him square in the eyes. “I don’t need to know where exactly you two are during the day, I don’t need you to tell me the minute you get back in the Glade, I don’t need to suffocate you with ‘girlish worries.’ But,” I yanked on his ear, “when those shucking Doors are closing up and NO ONE in the whole SHUCKING GLADE knows that you’ve been back, I’D LIKE TO KNOW!”

He yanked away from me, holding his ear. I suppose it hurt from my shouting, but that didn’t matter. 

“Newt,” I barked, as I left the room. He followed me down and out of the Homestead, as Clint was going in, with a confused expression on his face. Newt shook his head at my Keeper, and Clint kept his mouth shut.

I led Newt to the edge of the forest, where we could see the Gladers and they could see us. Alby eyed us suspiciously, and kept close. He probably thought I was going to wring Newt’s neck. However, I was not focused on scolding him anymore.

We sat down, and he immediately wrapped his arms around me again. His strong, warm arms. “I’m sorry, love,” he said softly as I laid my head against his chest, thanking even the Creators that I could hear his heartbeat again. That I could be in his arms again. That I could hear his voice again.

Even the beetle blades couldn’t distract me now.

“I was so scared,” I murmured. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Never.” He softly kissed my forehead, then titled my head up so that our eyes met. His chocolate-colored eyes, with that unnamed expression shining behind them. Gingerly he cupped my cheek in his hand, his fingers wiping away the tears that fell from my eyes. 

I never wanted to lose him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did! I think it's one of my top three favorites, actually. What a rollercoaster of emotions!
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. if you guys find more than a couple serious spelling errors or anything, feel free to let me know—I re-read some chapters and found some embarrassing ones. Just be polite about it, please.


	34. Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt may be safe, but that doesn't mean everyone is. The Maze is a dangerous place, and the Glade is not the best home. But sometimes? Sometimes, the things inside hurt more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> ToxikCherrys16: Hehe :) 
> 
> warning: self-harm, Depression
> 
> warning: reference to attempted sexual assault
> 
> If these are triggers, please skip.

 

 

Newt did not run the next day. Conveniently, it was his day to rest, but it was also nice for me to be with him after my scare the day before. We held each other for the morning, talking, then in the afternoon we sat on the bench near my garden when I was not needed for Med-jack duty, and he told me of his worries while I tended to my flowers.

“Sometimes I think I see patterns, sometimes I just think I’m going mad,” he admitted. “The farther out we go, the more mysterious the corridors become. Now we’ve got to this one place with thin walls, almost like blades.”

I wrinkled my nose. “They stay still, though, right?”

“During the day. At night, they change, just as the rest of the Maze does.”

I set down my trowel and dusted the soil off my hands. “Newt, I know it doesn't make sense. But you’re doing the best you can. No one can ask for more.”

He grumbled, but took my hand. “Wish there were more of a bloody point to all of this.”

I grasped his chin lightly, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You’re giving us all hope. We think you may find a way out, so we have the will to keep going. That’s important, Newt, remember that.”

He nodded solemnly. “I suppose you’re right, love.”

I huffed. “Suppose?” I repeated, brows raised in mock sternness.

“Know. I know you’re right,” he corrected in mock terror. “Forgive me.”

“Alright,” I nodded approvingly, “you’re forgiven. Now go bring this mint to Frypan,” I ordered, handing him some mint leaves I’d collected. “He’ll put it in some tea for us.”

 

—

 

It turned out that I needed more ginger tea in the next few days, rather than the mint, because my every-third-month cycles came, and I had to go through that agony. I hid myself away from the Gladers most days to ensure no outbursts, but Gally accidentally incurred my wrath when he and a careless Ben ate from a basket of apples the Creators sent up—with pink ribbons tied all around it. Which, obviously meant the entire basket was for me. However, when I went back to eat the last two one afternoon, they were gone, and Ben and Gally were munching on the cores. 

They regretted it.

At the end of the week, I was much better, and got back into my regular routine. Finally, I walked Bark around the Glade, and after Newt got back, we both took a walk around the Glade, throwing sticks to Bark as we went. But when we got to the Doors the Runners normally came through, Bark started whining at the entrance, and Newt stopped us. “What is it?” I asked.

He squinted into the darkness. “Aidan’s not back yet.”

“What?”

He took us a few steps closer to the entrance. The gray walls and Doors were intimidating, but right now, the eerie dark of the corridors was more worrisome. “Aidan, he went back in for his notebook. He should be back by now.”

I felt worry develop in my stomach. I grasped Newt’s hand tightly. “Are you sure he’s not back yet?”

Stephen came up behind us. “He’s not.” We turned to see the Runner strapping on a harness. “I’m going to get him,” he announced. “Be back soon.”

“No, wait,” Newt began, grabbing Stephen’s arm before the boy could go any further. 

“What?” Stephen demanded sharply. 

Newt glanced into the corridor, his face a mask. “I can’t let you.”

“Why the shuck not?”

Newt ran his fingers through his golden locks. “It’s too close. I can’t risk losing you too.”

Stephen pointed into the Maze accusingly. “You just want to leave him?”

Newt frowned sharply. “Bloody hell, Stephen, you know I don’t. But I can’t have you leave the Glade this late. You won’t make it back.”

Boys started to gather near us. Nick strode up beside Stephen and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stephen, shank, this time of day it becomes a Rule. Newt knows these Doors. He knows when they open and when they close. If he says you can’t go, you can’t go.”

Stephen was miserable and angry at the same time. “What about Aidan!?”

I knew it was late. I knew that no one could go in. I knew that if they did, they’d be lost to the Maze. I only hoped Aidan was close by, or close to one of the other entrances. “Put people at the other three Doors,” I demanded. “Everyone keep an eye out.”

Nick nodded. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted out the order, making sure a Runner was at each one. He, Newt, Stephen and I remained where we were. Minho, Graham, and Carl left for the other Doors.

I knew there were only minutes left. Newt and Stephen kneeled at the border of the Glade, peering into the darkness. 

“I’m going in,” Newt announced suddenly. 

“What?” Nick turned on him. “Newt you know that—”

“I know when they close!” Newt interrupted harshly. “I’ll pop in, if I don’t see him, I’m back.” Nick shook his head, but Newt continued, “I won’t be leaving her, Nick,” he nodded at me. “I’ll be back.”

He sprinted in, to the end of the corridor. I was on edge, the worry of last week resurfacing.

This life was hard.

Nick and I each put a hand on Stephen’s shoulders, ensuring he did not rush in. This was too similar to when I thought I had lost Newt. Now, here I was, on the protector side. I knew Aidan and Stephen were close friends. I knew they had been here a long time, and I knew certainly, first-hand, that this was not a favorable situation to be in.

Newt shouted for Aidan, but there was no response. He waited for what seemed like forever, but must have only been a few minutes. From my post, I watched him from a distance. It was getting close to time. I could tell.

Newt’s shoulders fell. He deflated, and hung his head, then walked backwards, shouting, begging for Aidan to answer, but he knew the time better than anyone, and he had to run back. The second he passed over the border, the Doors started creaking.

He bent over, hands on his knees, eyes glued to the corridor. “Newt,” Stephen croaked. 

“I know,” Newt answered, his voice a mournful song. We all watched as the Doors met with a resounding crash, and shared a moment of utter silence, wrapping our heads around what just happened.

Aidan was gone.

 

—

 

I watched as Newt crossed off Aidan’s name from the wall. Afterwards, we went upstairs, and held each other in silence.

How long would it take for us to recover this time?

“No,” I said suddenly. “We’re not going to wallow in our grief, not this time.”

Newt looked at me sadly. “What are we going to do then?”

I thought. “We’re going to go through every good memory we have of Aidan and keep him alive through our memories.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Stories. We tell each other stories about him. His name is in stone. Let’s make his story just as permanent. In fact,” I got excited and sat up, “let’s make a story for each Glader. That way we’ll always have something to hold on to.”

Newt sat up too. “How does a story keep someone’s memory alive?”

“Stories always keep people alive. That’s the point,” I stressed. “Get it? If we keep telling stories of people, they’re never really gone.”

Newt stared out the window. “Alright then, love. Tell me a story.”

I motioned for him to lie back down, and I laid down with him. “We have to pick our favorite story of each Glader. So it’s real. Aidan…”

“Aidan’s best story would be his first day as a Runner,” Newt interjected. I smiled, glad that he was getting the idea of things. This would help him. This would help him grieve, and to recover. 

“What was it like?” I urged him on.

He gave a small chuckle. “Bloody awful. Nearly didn’t make it back. See, I was running with him, since it was his first day, but he completely shucked up his map. Turned it the wrong way, and by the time we figured it out, we were completely lost. It was a new section, that I hand't run before.”

“Were you scared?”

“Bloody hell, I was terrified!” My head on his chest, I could hear his soft rumble of laughter as he recalled the event. “But the kicker? We were never five minutes away from the Doors. For an hour, we argued about how to get back, when Minho and Stephen ran into us on their way back. We’d been less than ten turns from the North Doors the whole bloody time.”

I smiled at his smile. “Sounds like a good story.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, then sat up suddenly. I sat with him, since I had been resting on him. “Bloody brilliant, Jo,” he whispered excitedly, taking my face in his hands and kissing my forehead sweetly. “Stories,” he sighed contentedly. “Only you would have thought of it.”

We laid back down. “Stories are what keep us alive, Newt,” I told him, as we drifted off.

Somehow stories made life easier.

 

—

 

I shared my ideas with Clint, Jeff, and Nick, and they all liked the idea. From there on, I spent free time writing down the stories of the Gladers. At night, I would tell them to the boys, and it helped us to cope.

Of course, I still had Med-jack duties, and so I still studied medical issues. 

“Lunch?” I asked, on a particularly unhappy and hot day, not more than a week after Aidan’s death. I was tired of reading about circulation. Instead, I read up about mental disorders, like depression and anxiety, but soon it was past noon, and my stomach was demanding to be fed.

Jeff stood. “Let’s go grab some sandwiches and come back here,” he said. Good, sandwiches would be cooling in this weather. He and I left for the kitchens, and when we went in the back to see Frypan, we got to chat a bit with the other cooks as well.

Brandon caught my eye.

It was hot outside, and even hotter in here. Frypan was sweating—he was prepping soup for dinner—and the stove’s heat caused the other boys to sweat as well. They all had short sleeves or tank tops—except for Brandon. He wore long sleeves down to his wrist.

I strode over to him. “Hey, Brandon,” I greeted him.

He looked at me and smile brightly. “Hey, Jo. Hungry?” 

I nodded, then pointed over my shoulder. “Sandwiches. How are you doing?”

He turned back to his work—cutting potatoes—and told me, “Good. It’s real fun in here. Fry’s great.”

I eyed him closely. To anyone else, he was completely happy. Liked his work, liked his friends. He was always smiling, whenever I saw him, but he also always had long sleeves. “Yeah, he is,” I said slowly. “Brandon?”

He glanced back at me, still smiling. “Hmm?”

I saw it.

I saw how his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

My heart clenched in my chest as I realized the truth: His smile was fake.

He’d been fooling us all—even me, shuck it! I should have noticed earlier—and he was suffering horribly. 

I shrugged, knowing I couldn’t do anything in here, where his friends were. If I asked him to roll up his sleeves, he’d feel threatened. If I asked if he as Depressed, he would deny it and then resent me later.

So I waited. 

I waited until that evening, after dinner. That afternoon, I read more on Depression. The textbook did not have much on it, but it had enough, and I had seen enough of it myself. Once dinner ended, Newt and I sat on a log outside, but once I saw some of the cooks coming out, I invited him to go talk with Stephen, who looked particularly sullen. Losing Aidan was hard.

He pulled me along with him, but I shook my head.

“Jo?” he asked. “What?”

I glanced at the kitchen. “I’m worried about someone. Gonna have a talk.”

His eyes softened in understanding. He kissed me on the forehead, then walked off, and I was left to watch the kitchen door until Brandon came out.

When he did, he was smiling and laughing, with Frypan of them all, and looked amused. However, once Frypan left, Brandon’s smile lost some of its shine. It was still there, plastered on his face like a mask. He headed off to the forest, and I saw something silver gleam in his pocket.

A knife.

I followed him quietly. He sat at the base of a tree deep, where the moonlight cast a beam of light through the leaves.

I sat next to him.

He flinched away, startled, but calmed when he saw it was me. “Jo,” he hissed, “you scared me.”

I nodded. “Sorry.”

He frowned, angry that I was not leaving. He still did not sit back agains the tree, as I did. “What is it?” he asked, trying to fake cheerfulness.

“Why don’t you ever roll up your sleeves?” I asked gently, though I knew the answer.

He looked startled again. “I get cold.”

I sighed, sad. “Can I have the knife?” 

“What knife?” he laughed. “We’re in the middle of the forest.”

I didn’t laugh with him. “You know that I’m a Med-jack,” I began, looking off into the trees ahead of us. “And I’m the Minder. I’ve greeted every new boy since I got here, so I feel responsible for all of them, even though I’m not a Keeper.”

He eased back against the tree, next to me, curious about what I was saying.

“I was here for the first Changing,” I told him.

“I know,” he said. “You were the one who asked for Grief Serum.”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “It was terrifying. I thought I’d killed Aidan. I thought the Serum didn’t work. Then, he had nightmares from the Changing, and it took a long time before he finally opened up to me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Brandon said in a whisper, looking out into the trees with me. Aidan’s death in the Maze was still recent.

I felt a tear run down my cheek. “He’s gone now. But he's not the first Runner I’ve seen die.”

Brandon’s head snapped up as I wiped my tear away. “My first Newbie, Alfred, became a Runner. He got Stung, and was the second one to go through the Changing.” I looked down. “He killed himself right after he woke up.”

Brandon gasped. 

“That hurt me worse than anything here had,” I continued through my falling tears. “Hurt Newt, too. We were so guilty. We thought it was our fault. A lot of times I still think it is.”

“No,” Brandon protested, but I kept talking.

“I have a lot of guilt on me, Brandon,” I told him. “A while after Alfred died…well, there was this Builder. He was cruel, and mean, and…he…” I took a breath. “You know how, while I welcome the Newbies, Nick or Alby always takes them aside at one point, has a talk with them?”

“Yeah,” Brandon confirmed quietly. “Tells us not to touch you. Not in _that_ way.”

So he knew what _that_ was. Good, I did not really want to explain it. “Yeah. Well, this Builder, Justin…he tried to, um…rape me.”

Brandon’s eyes widened. “No. You’re only—you’re only a teenager!”

I nodded. “Yeah, well…so are you, and look what you’re doing. Me? I fought him off, ran about ten steps into the Maze. Newt was the only one who could bring me back inside, and he was the only one I could stand to be near me. Justin was sentenced to Banishment, but I wanted to see him, and he said some things. Made me think it was my fault, told me his death would be on me.”

“That’s a lie,” Brandon defended me. “That wasn’t your fault.”

I shrugged. “I felt guilty. He’d beaten me up, but when I went to see him, he added two cuts to my wrists. When he was being Banished, he used my guilt to try to save himself. Convinced the Gladers that I was cutting myself, and they believed it, even though I said it wasn’t true.”

“Newt?” Brandon asked.

“Newt was the one to finally believe me. Then they Banished Justin.”

Brandon sighed in relief. “Good.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but I still felt awful. It took time before I recovered.” 

“You’re better now, though, aren’t you?”

I shrugged. “Sure. Mostly. But every death here, every time a Glader is hurting, it hurts me.” I took one of his hands in mine and looked him in his sad eyes. “My point is, Brandon,” I stressed, “I know you’re hurting. I’ve hurt too, and I know it hurts more when you keep it in. You’re hiding behind a mask. I’m sorry it took so long for me to see how bad you’re hurting, but know that I’m here for you. The mask doesn’t work on me, anyways. Not anymore. So take it off.”

He battled with himself a moment, then deflated, and all signs of his fake happiness left his face. His mouth was no longer turned upwards, his cheeks no longer showing smile lines, his shoulders no longer supporting a steady head. He was slumped against the tree, no sign of effort.

This was Brandon.

This was how he was hurting.

He took out the silver knife, placed it on the ground near our legs, then shimmied his sleeves up to his elbows. Pink and red lines dashed across his forearms and wrists, on both arms. Some cuts were healed or healing, some were fresh. I took his arms in my hands—gently—and felt my eyes tear up even more at the sight. 

The worst part was that I was not even surprised. Just… _sad_.

“It helped me to feel more real,” he told me. “Something here feels so off, so…artificial. The only thing that feels real is the pain inside, so…”

“So you wanted the pain on the outside to match,” I finished for him. He nodded, and I took him into my arms, like I did when he first arrived, and when I found him that night, crying alone, outside. Again, I cursed the Creators for sending him in, so little, so sad. This life was not fair, but a boy this young should not have to live it.

“Please, Brandon,” I asked him, in soft tones, “stop cutting yourself. I know you're hurting, but I want to help you stop hurting. I know it’s not easy, I know it’s not something you can turn on and off, but can we try? Together?”

He considered, then nodded. “I’ll try to be happier.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking you to let me help you heal. Happy is something to achieve after healing.”

He looked at me oddly. “Why are you saying that? Why don’t you just tell me to buck up, get over it?”

I hugged him again, sadly. “I know it’s not that simple,” I whispered. “I care about you. I care about how you feel. And acting happy, or even truly being happy, is not a remedy for being depressed. You have to heal first.”

He nodded into my shoulder. “Okay.”

I stood, and he followed. I took the knife from the ground, and he just stared at it mournfully. “Why don’t I take care of this?” I said, and he nodded gratefully. “When you need me, Brandon, just get me. I’ll listen, I’ll talk, I’ll help you in any way I can.”

He nodded. “I…I can listen for you, too,” he offered. “I mean…Aidan…”

I felt my heart clench. “My pain isn’t your burden,” I told him, “but if it helps you, to know you’re not alone, then I will share my own stories. Ones I don’t tell the other boys to keep everyone’s memories alive.”

He nodded. 

We walked back to the Glade together. He went off to sit with Newt and Minho, while I returned the knife to the Kitchen. 

When I got to the boys, Newt had an arm around the small boy, and when he caught my eye, there was something behind his expression that I couldn’t name. 

 _Always_ that expression I couldn’t name.

Whatever it was, it made me happy, and it helped me not to feel so sad. I sat on the other side of Brandon, and put one arm around him, so that Newt and I were both holding him, and holding each other. 

 


	35. Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt gets a little protective of Jo. She, however, does not like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> warning: reference to attempted sexual assault. If a trigger, you are welcome to skip this.
> 
>  
> 
> Also my lovlies, I have finished the story! I just have to edit parts and add a tiny thing to the end, so I will post these parts a bit faster. There will be 57 chapters!

 

Newt had a rest day on the next Box Day. He sat lazily in the Med-jack hut as I stitched up a hole in a hammock. Minho’s hammock, actually, and while I may have been angry that he assumed I would sew it up, being a girl, it gave me practice that could be used towards stitching someone’s skin up. Clint, Jeff, and I each sewed a patch, so that we would all get practice, but my stitches were neater than theirs. After a while, Newt and I went outside and sat, so we could talk without feeling like we were bothering the other two boys.

“Say Jo,” Newt asked as we sat in the sun, “do any of the greenies…well, do they ever try to make a move on you when they first meet you?”

I laughed. “Newt, the newbies are too scared to think about crushes.”

He nudged me. “But really. I mean, I know Nick gives them a talk about not trying to do anything, but do they ever try it anyways?”

I put down my sewing. “Newt,” I sighed in annoyance, “when the newbies meet me, they are usually just glad to see another living person. They do not know I’m the only girl and they have never made a move. Recently the boys have been younger, too. And besides,” I picked up my sewing again, “do you really think it would matter if they did?”

He shrugged.

“I have you, Newt. I’m not looking for anyone else.”

I saw him smile from the corner of my eye. “That’s not really what I was getting at, Jo, though I am glad to hear you say that.”

I put down my sewing again, and started straight ahead frustratedly. “Newt.”

“Jo.”

“Speak. English.”

I felt his hand tug my chin, so that my head turned to look at him. His smile was gone. Instead, he looked worried. “Jo, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

I stared blankly. “Safe?”

He nodded. “From anyone who would try to…”

Realization dawned on me. I reached up to hold Newt’s hand, my eyes softening. “Newt, I have my machete. And I have the other boys, too. Nick’s always right there. Gally is too. I’m safe, don’t worry.”

He looked down, still concerned. “It’s just…sometimes, when I’m Running on Box days, I worry. I worry that something may happen when I’m gone. Like it did last…”

“Newt, you don’t have to worry anymore. Okay?”

He looked up again. “Jo, I just think…I think you need to be extra careful when you get into the Box with them. Who knows what they’re like?”

My eyes flickered. His eyes were genuinely worried. I was glad for that, but I was more than slightly annoyed that he would suggest that a newbie, a scared little newbie with no memory, who just went through a terrifying ordeal waking up in the Box, alone, would even think about trying to make a move on me. I felt like I needed to defend the newbies. These scared little boys. What if it was a girl this time? Then I was definitely safe.

I knew he cared, but really? A newbie? We were kids, not adults. Kids didn’t think about that.

“Newt,” I said calmly, not wanting to get angry with him, though he was definitely frustrating me, “I am sure there is not a newbie who would do anything. Not like that.”

He grasped my other hand, put both of mine in between both of his, and said again, “Who knows what they’re like?”

“Newt!” I glared. This was really frustrating. Why did he keep pressing this issue? These were _newbies_ we were talking about! “They are _terrified_ little boys. They are not like Justin.” Saying the name sent a jolt through me, but I was fine. I was fine? I was definitely fine, as long as Newt stopped talking.

He pursed his lips. “Jo, maybe I should go in the Box with you.”

I stood, Minho’s hammock falling to the ground unnoticed. “Newt, my love,” I said through gritted teeth, “I would not mind you coming in the Box with me, but the fact is, that you are slightly intimidating to a boy who has just lost his memory and who has endured a Box ride. I am a girl. I am more of a mother image, and mothers are comforting.”

He stood too. “I don’t want you becoming a real mother before your time.”

That did it. “Newt!” I barked, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I love you but I do _not_ like what you are suggesting! _We’re_ not doing anything, and no _newbie_ will do anything!”

“But what if—”

“Newt, hush!” I turned away, closing my eyes and biting my lip, struggling to remain controlled. “I need a moment to calm down, Newt, I do not want to fight with you. Excuse me a moment.”

I walked away quickly, heading for the edge of the forest. No one was there, I could whisper my frustrations without bothering anyone. As I walked, I muttered, but made sure not to turn around, lest I lose my temper. 

I began pacing in between the trees, tripping over roots and rocks frequently. I could never get angry with Newt, but I was overly frustrated with what he was saying. Yes, I loved him, yes, he was my best friend, yes, I knew he meant well, but I was shocked to even entertain his idea! A newbie? Acting suggestively? Shuck, Brandon and Peter were such little boys, how could I even think the next newbie would even be old enough to…

I shook the though from my head. Newt was not being overprotective, he was just worried, I told myself. It was true, too. He meant no harm. I just got riled up, defensive of the newbies.

The Box alarm jolted me out of my thoughts. I gave another frustrated huff, then left the calm trees to join the Keepers at the Box. Newt stood aways off, an unreadable expression on his face. I did not meet his eyes. He did not approach, and I knew that meant he was trying to give me space.

We heard the Box come to a halt beneath us. It opened, and Nick and Gally threw open the grate, so I could jump into the dark cube. Once inside, I looked around. I did not have to wait, however, because just when I got in, a tall boy, with close-cropped, strawberry-blond hair, bulging biceps, and pale skin step from the shadows. “Hello,” I greeted warmly. “I’m Jo.

He smiled, interrupting me before I could continue. “Great. This elevator is hell. Who put me here?”

“I’ll explain in a minute. I know you’re probably confused, but I can help you.”

He took a step towards me. “Here to compensate for what I just went through? Good. Why don’t you start by coming here and giving us a kiss, hmm?”

My smile faded instantly. “You’ve got to be joking,” I deadpanned. I gaped in annoyed disbelief. 

He shrugged. “You said you could help me…”

I glared. “Don’t even think about it. Now, we’ll help you out of this thing, and no funny business, got it?”

I reached up, forgetting to ask his name, and Nick pulled me out. The newbie pulled himself out. When he did, he stood, then whistled as he took in the Glade. Instead of looking scared, like most newbies did, he looked pleased.

I heard Newt’s voice in the back of my mind. _“Who knows what they’re like?”_

“Do you know your name?” I asked, not all that pleasantly. Hearing my frustration, Nick looked at me, asking if I was alright with a raise of his eyebrows. I nodded, sighed, and added gently, “If you don’t, you will remember within a few hours. It’s okay.”

He shrugged. “Nah, I remember. David. Dave. Yeah, that’s it. But I, uh, don’t remember much else. Say, what is this place?”

“The Glade,” I explained, and motioned for him to follow me away from then Box, so that the others could unload. “I’ll give you the Tour. Come on.”

He followed. I did not like how casually he walked, but I supposed it was because I was still a bit frustrated from my conversation with Newt. I also did not like how he commented on my eyes—my green eyes, that Newt always complimented. They way Dave said they were “cute” did not make me feel comfortable. Maybe it was the way he said it. Condescendingly. Maybe it was the way I felt his eyes constantly looking me up and down, which caused me to often glance over my shoulder, ensuring my machete was right there. It was, and I was glad to have it, especially now, when Dave made me feel so…nervous. Still, I gave him the Tour, explaining our situation. When he asked if there were many girls, I was sure to add that I was the only one, “yet.”

We were almost to the kitchens—I figured he would be hungry right about now—when he pulled me close, one hand firm on my waist. He put his other hand behind my head and pulled my face close to his, as if trying to kiss me. 

I pulled away.

He stepped closer to me, but I shoved him off. “Hands to yourself!” I snapped. 

He smirked. I did not like how he smirked. “What’s the problem?” He took slow steps forward, and I took parallel steps back. “Only girl here, you really think your body is your own?”

I growled. Shuck, this was exactly what Newt had been worried about. I did not take any chances—I learned well from my past.I reached behind me and drew my machete out of its scabbard, ready to slice him. “You bet your shucking butt it is. Don’t touch me again.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you threatening me?”

Oh, he did it there. I did not care if he was a newbie, I had a weapon, and I was not afraid to use it, and I was _not_ going to be treated like this. As he laughed at my machete, and with one hand, reached to mine, pushing my blade away, and with the other, reached for my waist again, I took a step to the side and drew my blade across whatever skin came towards me first: his hand.

My silver blade sliced easily through his sleeve, cutting down his lower palm, wrist, and forearm rather than his fingers. He drew back quickly, eyes murderous, and almost looked ready to lunge at me.

“You’ll get more than a bloody threat if you lay your bloody hands on her again,” I heard a very angry voice promise from behind me. Dave, holding his cut, paled when Newt stepped up beside me, arms crossed firmly across his chest. Newt must have been more terrifying than my machete. I glanced at him to see rage painted clearly across his face, his lips pressed together tightly. “You should be tossed into the Maze for that,” Newt pointed out with a voice like murder. “That’s what happened to the last bloody shank who messed with her without her consent.”

Dave put his hands out, reaching for me, trying to apologize, but Newt snapped, thinking that Dave was making a move. I saw that he was just wanting to shake my hand, but Newt stepped between us in a rage, yelling, “Did you not just bloody hear me?”

“Newt, he was just—”

“I should throw him into the Maze now! Give him to the Grievers!”

I put my hand on Newt’s. “He was apologizing. Weren’t you?” I said sweetly. 

Dave nodded frantically. 

Newt calmed slightly. “Touch her again and I bloody swear….”

“Touch me again and I won’t hesitate to use my machete again,” I told him. “And next time, I’ll get something other than your arm.” I nodded to my blade and put it up close to his face, just to prove I was not joking.

“Hey, there, Greenbean,” Nick drawled. “Why don’t you come with me, eh?”  
Dave apologized again, looking sincere now that he knew I was with Newt, and left gratefully with Nick.

I wiped Dave’s blood off on my shirt, sheathed my machete, then turned to Newt. “Newt, I, uh…you were right,” I told him, looking into his eyes apologetically. “I should be more careful. Dave…he was _exactly_ what you had been suggesting. I’m sorry I got frustrated, it’s just that…well, most of these boys are so scared! I never expected…” I bit my lip.

Newt took me in his arms, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, too, Jo. I didn’t mean to suggest that all the newbies were like that. And I know you can take care of yourself. I just don’t want you to be blindsided by them. You see the best in us all, and you expect us to have good intentions.” He kissed the top of my head. “But I don’t want you so trusting that you get caught unprepared.”

I moved to look up at him. “I guess that’s why I have you, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “You will always have me, Jo. But, as you just demonstrated, you don’t need any of us to defend you. You do just fine yourself.” His eyes moved from mine to the Kitchens behind me, and he smiled, nodding for me to turn around.

I did, though Newt still held me.

Brandon was watching from the door of the Kitchens. He had his hand on Frypan’s shirt, as if he had literally grabbed the older boy to come save me, but paused when he saw Newt was there.

Frypan saluted us, and Newt nodded curtly. Fry patted Brandon on the shoulder and went back inside, but the young boy just stood there, still watching. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one ready to kill Dave for you,” Newt mused. “That lad was ready to save you, too,” he said, and I nodded. 

Brandon didn't move, so I opened my arms, and he came sprinting to me. He launched into a hug, and I embraced him tightly, as Newt patted his back. “I won’t let anyone hurt you like that Builder Justin did,” Brandon promised me. 

“I know,” I told him emotionally. Newt gave up on patting and instead hugged Brandon from the side, one arm around him, and one arm around me, so we were all in one tight, family-like embrace.

We started laughing when Newt picked us all up and spun in a circle. When he set us down, we all let go, but stood smiling at each other for a while. “You guys make this place like a home,” Brandon told us both, his blue eyes sparkling with something real—some real bit of happiness, even if there was sadness too.

He ran back to the kitchen, but looked at us once last time before disappearing through the doorway.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name from TMR book and database:  
> Dave: David Bohm
> 
>  
> 
> :) 


	36. Fire!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a fire damages the crops, the Gladers' food supply plummets. Will Jo let her friends starve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

Newt and I danced again at the Bonfire. I also danced with some of the other boys, to show them how. We took turns, just learning, and it was fun. I told more stories, just like I did every Bonfire, and, more recently, every time anyone asked. Tonight I recalled how Winston was chased by the goat all across the Glade. Then, I talked about a time when Frypan started randomly dancing around in the dining area during breakfast. Only the Runners, Med-jacks, and Keepers had seen it, but everyone else thought it was just as hilarious as if they had been there too.

It was windy that night for some reason, which was odd because normally the weather never changed, not even to rain or to have a breeze. But, windy it was, which caused my hair to blow in many directions while Newt and I danced again, after story time. I had it long, since it was just washed. 

Newt and I were swaying peacefully when we heard shouts. We turned and saw the reason: the Gardens were on fire. The wooden poles and grates we used to help the plants stand up were dry and fueled the fire. Water there was directed to the crops, so the grass was in less than ideal conditions, especially recently, when we had started to notice that the air was warmer and dryer.

I never realized who fast fire could spread. 

We all ran to help put out the fire, while Zart and Ben worked on breaking the pipes by the Gardens. Already the crops were burning.

Instantly, twenty of us were there, trying to pat out the flames, or spray them with water. I grabbed handfuls of dirt and threw them on the flames, effectively killing them, while others stamped on the fire. The side I was on was soon fire-free, but shouts of pain caused me to realize what my next job was. 

Clint caught my eye, and he sprinted to the Med-jack hut, while I raced back to the Bonfire, where my Med-bag was waiting. I snatched it up and sprinted back to the Gardens, asking who was hurt. Jeff joined me, already wearing his bag. Soon, we had a line of boys with burns. Most boys only needed cool water and salve, having only been affected by close heat and not direct flame. Gally, however, was badly burned on his arms and legs. His clothes had burned through on his sleeves, but he had stopped-dropped-and-rolled, and been drenched in water from the pipes, so it was not as bad as it could have been.

But it was bad.

I had to be gentle treating him, with Clint’s help, as Jeff worked on Frypan, whose arm and head hair was singed nearly completely off. The burns were bad, but we could work with them.

Some burns were worse than others, and we had limited supplies. Jeff moved the boys to the showers, where they could run less severe burns with cool—not cold—water. Clint and I treated the worst boys in my bathroom, where things were significantly neater and cleaner. The pipes in the bathrooms gave us more water access than if we remained in the Med-jack hut, and we remained treating boys until late into the night.

Nick came in past midnight, covered in burns. I was angry with him, for not getting treated earlier. With burns, time was crucial to ensure the heat did not go deeper into the skin. Most boys had burns from the heat, but others—like Nick—had heat and flame burns.

“Crops are gone,” he told us defeatedly, as I dragged him to the sink.

I paled. “All of them?”

He nodded. 

I was stunned for a split second, but my focus was on his burns. They were immediate. Crops were important, but I could not help there. I _could_ help Nick.

Unfortunately, he had burns _all_ over. I opened one of the two swinging doors to the shower section of my bathroom, and pointed in. “Strip. I’ll get you a new shirt and pants. Get in one of those stalls, turn on cool water, not cold. Clint, you deal with the burns. I’ll see if Jeff needs me.”

They did as I said, and I left to see Jeff. I knocked on the door to the boy’s bathrooms, asking if he needed help.

The door swung open, and Minho was there, a bandage around his right hand. “Jo. Good, Jeff wants some help with Newt.”

I frowned, but I was in Medic Mode. My worry for Newt did not cloud my medical judgement, or cause me to panic. Minho winced, thinking that he made a huge mistake, but sighed in relief when I simply followed him inside. 

Newt was soaking his hands in a sink. The worst burns were on his palms, which he used to pat out flames. I inspected his skin carefully, keeping his hands under water, while Clint told me how it happened. 

“Patted some burns off of Ben, he caught fire. Not too bad burned, thanks to Newt here, but Newt also used his hands to pat out flames on some of the crops.”

“Little good it did,” Newt grumbled. I used the tips of my fingers to guide his sullen face towards mine, and I looked him square in the eye.

“You did what you could. But next time, don’t use your hands,” I ordered before turning back to his skin. The water was helping to pull the heat from underneath his skin, but unfortunately his skin was raw, and would need days to heal, if not a week or two. 

It could have been worse. 

Clint finished working on Alby, who had burns on his legs where the fire burned his pant legs, and who was protesting against treatment. “Ain’t nothin’,” he insisted, but Clint knew better. 

I gently applied salve to Newt’s hands, then wrapped them in gauze. I was not entirely sure that us Med-jacks had done everything right, but we only had the few medic textbooks to work off of, and we did our job as best we knew how. 

By the time the sun rose, we three had just finished ensuring everyone had been checked. No one knew how the fire started, but I did not dwell on it. I had to worry about the boys. Some boys thought their burns were insignificant, and did not come see us. Carl was one of those, but his heat burns still had to be treated. I just finished giving him a scolding when the Doors opened. He had wanted to hide his injuries so that he could Run, but Nick forbade anyone from Running that day. We had to focus on healing, and on fixing our newest problems. 

Lack of food.

The crops were all destroyed, and while we had new food from the Box, and all of the livestock, I doubted we could go long. At least we got supplies every week, so we did not have to wait until Box day next month.

But when the day for supplies came, it didn’t. No supplies. No extra help from the Creators. No new bandaging, no care packages, no food.

Nothing. 

It was as if Supplies Days had been put on hold. As if the Creators had not seen the tragedy we had just suffered, or more likely, as if they wanted to test us. As if they wanted to see if we could survive. 

“A buggin’ test,” Newt told me. It was two weeks after the fire, and our food supply was dangerously low. With the many burn injuries, it was more dangerous to have less food, but we had to. After a Gathering, we set ourselves on strict rations. Very strict, very small. Twice a day, minimum amounts of food, which brought us near to starvation after long enough. Runners got the largest rations, since most of them had healed enough to Run the Maze again. Nick and Alby, along with the Cooks and Med-jacks, got the next largest portions. Frypan had done well with what little we had, but we had to slaughter most of the animals. We were out of the pigs and chickens. We kept the cow, who supplied us with milk, and who could soon give us a calf. The goat would be the next to go, but after that, we would have no more animals, save Bark, who was not likely to be eaten. For one, he was too thin to be of much use for meat, and for another, he was far more comfort alive than eaten. He was a bit of a comfort-dog, in fact, and helped to console the boys. He did not eat much, either. 

I agreed with Newt. It was a test. 

Our spirits were low, so I told more and more stories. Every night, and whenever someone would ask. If they wanted a story other than one about the Gladers, I would relate some to the constellations that Newt and I came up with. Not all of my listeners understood the origin of those tales, but Newt always winked at me when he heard them, and so they helped to lift our spirits.

Clint, Jeff, and I did rounds morning and evening to check up on the boys, but we, like everyone else, became more and more tired. I often delivered cups of tea, with my mint or ginger, to help ease the hunger pains. Luckily, those herbs, being separate from the Gardens, were unharmed. They proved very useful to tricking the boys’ stomaches into thinking they were not as hungry as they actually were, and I was glad.

I drank the teas throughout the day, and divided most of my ration out to the boys who were suffering most. Some had burn wounds that needed more energy to heal, and some, such as Cooper, were already slim, and these last few weeks made them little more than skin and bone. Since the lack of food was sending their bodies into survival modes, fat was being used as sustenance. They were more and more exhausted, since energy was being used sparingly. The boys did not complain to me much of the pains, but I could see it, and especially on those slim boys. With too little for fat, their muscle would be the next to go. 

Well, I could not have that. Not as their Minder, not as their “Glade-Mother,” as Brandon started to call me. The hunger pains I suffered grew more intense, but I suspected that these boys had it worse.

I made sure no one saw me when I gave out food to the boys who I noticed were most in need, whether injured or slim. I made mental notes when I went on my rounds, and Clint and Jeff told me who they thought was suffering most as well. They of course did not know that I was giving those selected boys my food, but I let them know that I brought those boys more tea as well. The tea was always available, for anyone, but I watched the selected boys more closely. 

Rations got smaller. My belly aches intensified, so I drank more tea. But more water, less food, made me feel sick. I vomited frequently, as did the other boys who drank too much water on empty stomaches, so we amended our efforts. We made sure not to drink too much tea or water at once. It helped, but we still felt sick. I also felt an odd feeling around my head, as if some metal crown were resting there, but it must have just been a headache. I noticed that my chest was smaller, and the fat I had on my legs and middle was also decreasing. I had a bit more fat to work with though, so I was not losing muscle yet. I dearly hoped that the Creators would give us food before that happened. 

Then, the goat was slaughtered, which made me a bit sad, and Runners stopped Running. “Hey, Jo?” Minho asked, coming to see me as I did rounds. 

“Mm?”

His nose twitched. “Say, sweetheart, what happens if we don’t get food? What happens to our bodies, first?”

I walked him aways from the other boys. I nodded at the slimmer ones, who I noted to share my food with. “We still have food, but our smaller rations are taking their tolls. We’re all near to starving, since there are enough of us that our rations are minimal.”

“How long does it take to die?”

I huffed. “Awhile. We’re far from it.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” I allowed, “not incredibly far. But, we still have food, just smaller portions. I mean, it's only been two weeks. With those small portions, our bodies will use up fat, then go to muscle. Energy is used to keep us going. Water helps, and the teas, but a lot of water and little food can make you feel unwell, too.”

He looked at his arms. “What happens to people with no fat?”

I swatted his arm. “Muscle.”

He glanced at the smaller boys. “And those with no muscle?”

I bit my lip, not wanting to let on that I was sharing. I couldn’t let him share—his muscles would use up a lot of the energy he had—but I couldn't let him stop me from sharing—and I knew he would. “They become weak.”

His eyes flickered and his mouth became a tight line. “What do we do?”

I patted his shoulder. “Let me worry about it,” I told him.

I did worry. Jeff, Clint, and I demoted ourselves to smaller rations of food, and the others, encouraged by Minho, followed our example. We all had equal rations now. 

I kept dealing out most of my food, but the effects were starting to show. I was exhausted. When I stood up, my head swam, or my vision was dotted with black spots. Once, I almost fell into Jeff, but he was not watching, and I was able to steady myself before he noticed anything wrong. I knew that it was not good for my body, but I also did not want my boys to be hungry.

Unfortunately, they were hungry, and hunger made tempers shorter. There were more arguments, especially since most of the boys spent the days in one place—the Garden. We tried to replant with the seeds we had, and the remains of the crops that were not as badly burned. However, we could not speed up the natural process. Boys were hungry and angry, and this led to fights. The Baggers and Runners usually broke up the fights, but any injury was more serious than before because their bodies were weak. 

I became so frustrated with the boys that got into fights that I would not even speak to them when they came to the Med-jacks to get fixed up. I did not want to risk an outburst of my own, so I clamped my teeth together and pursed my lips shut. Often, seeing me like that shut up the boys who were injured. Jeff did not have a temper, and kept silent as I did, but Clint became more hot-headed with the hunger pains. As a result, Jeff and I were the ones to help anyone who was injured. It got harder, though, as my vision blurred more and more often, and I had to pause when treating someone in order to not black out.

A few times, I did black out, but no one was around to notice. I hid my increasing clumsiness. I drank more tea, and pretended that the ache in my belly was not as and as it was.

Pretending did not make it better. But, after a while, it became a dull ache, and other than the occasional sharp pain, the dull ache was bearable.

Minho was injured one day. He had a bloody nose from breaking up a fight between Dave and Gally. I did not ask why, but Newt, who tensely escorted his friend to the Med-Jacks, had on his protective look. Judging from Gally’s expression and his demands for Jeff to be the one to treat Dave, I could guess that the reason was due to a less-than-appropriate remark from our Newbie. I almost gave a lecture, even opened my mouth, but another sudden blur of my vision stopped me short.

That same day, boys started fainting. We brought them to their hammocks, for those that had them, and watched over them closely, making sure they drank plenty of water and teas. I noticed that their skin was becoming a bit yellow, and that made me nervous. So, I began searching through all of the books we had on plants and herbs to find anything else we could eat.

“Clint! Jeff!” I called, after finding a page. “Look!” They rushed to me and sat on either side of me, on the cot I was sitting on. I pointed to a sketch of an oak tree, and the information net to it. “Aren’t the trees in the forest oak trees?”

Clint nodded. “Sure. Those leaves are the same.” He pointed at the sketch, and I hopped up, excited. Immediately, my vision swam, but after steadying myself on Clint, I was fine. “Jo? You okay?”  
I nodded. “Fine. The leaves! Oak, it can be eaten! The leaves, the acorns! Raw or cooked. Probably easier to digest cooked. And the acorns, well, they’re bitter, but it can also be ground into a flour!” I closed the book. “Too bad we don’t have more dandelions, we could have that too, or pine trees. The nuts are good. But for now, we have oak!” 

We walked briskly outside. We were too weak to run, but we got outside as quickly as we could. Immediately, the three of us found Frypan and I told him of my findings. I knew that the leaves and acorns may be difficult to digest, but it could be better than nothing. If this was a test, then if the Creators saw that we were finding our own food, maybe they would send up real food for us. 

“Then let’s get over there!” he exclaimed gladly. “Nice work, cupcake!” The cooks, Builders, and Track-Hoes accompanied us Med-jacks to the forest, where I restated what I read, pointing to the acorns on the ground, as well as leaves on the trees. 

“The acorns will taste bitter, but it’s better than nothing.” I pulled down a branch of the nearest tree and pulled off a leave. “Leaves and acorns,” I told the boys, “grab them both. Bring whatever you can to the cooks, and Fry will start boiling the acorns to make them less tough. We need it easy to digest. Hurry, now.”

We all helped. Soon, we had enough leaves and acorns to feed us. I thought vaguely of some type of acorn soup, and Fry took it upon himself to be creative. He planned to shell them, then boil leaves and acorns, just to be safe, and to make them both easier for our stomaches to digest. As I picked up a bowl of boiled leaves to deliver to the boys who had been fainting, I felt yet another wave of dizziness, and I felt my foot catch on a rock. My head swam, my vision blurred, and then, nothing. 

 

—

 

“Jo. Jo, love, wake up. Come on, please wake up now.” 

I opened my eyes to see Newt’s face hovering above me. Seeing that I was awake, he broke into a smile and let out a sigh. “Come, sit up, love. I have some food for you here.”

I sat up slowly, but the dull ache in my stomach was almost unbearable by now. I was in the grass by the kitchen, out of the way. Jeff was kneeling next to me, on the opposite side of Newt. “Sorry,” I muttered. 

“Here,” Newt said, and handed me a bowl. I reached to take it, but my hands were unsteady, so he held it for me. “Let me?”

I frowned. “But…”

He gave a small laugh. “No buts. I got my rations, and besides, I’ve had more than you anyways. Let me.”

I nodded hesitantly, and he began gently spooning acorns, in an unexpectedly thick broth, into my mouth. The acorns were in small pieces, so they were easy to chew, but they were quite bitter. It did not matter; it was edible. The broth was also a bit bitter, but bearable. I ate slow, and only a little. Clint and Jeff made sure everyone knew that they could not stuff themselves. We had to take it slow, and only eat small bits at a time. The food was cooked, but if could still be difficult to digest. 

I only had a couple of leaves before I, despite the new craving in my stomach, refused food. The leaves were like steamed spinach, however, and were not as bitter as the acorns were. 

Newt and I used the wall to get up, and then made our way over to the logs around where the Bonfires were, where a lot of boys were sitting. As we got closer, I noticed that it was all of the Keepers, plus Nick and Alby. “Newt?” I questioned. 

“Gathering,” he told me. He and I sat on an empty space on a log by Gally, but I was dozing almost immediately, my head on Newt’s shoulder. When Nick spoke, his loud voice jolted me awake, but I would be lying if I said I was paying full attention.

“Tomorrow is the third Supplies Day. Almost three weeks since Dave and the last Box came up, but we all know that there was no food in the shipment. Like we discussed before, this is a test. I think that the oak leaves will be our passing of the test. Opinions?”

“Yes,” Alby said from beside Nick. We went around the circle, Keeper by Keeper. We were not in our chairs, so we were not in the proper order, but we did not care right now.

“Agreed,” Gally rumbled from next to us.

“Same here,” Newt said, then nudged me.

“Yes,” I managed weakly. I felt my vision swim again, and despite the recent meal, I was sure I was about to fall asleep. Maybe it was due to the recent meal.

Clint eyed me warily from across the circle, but said nothing. Nick continued. “Alright then, let’s all hope that tomorrow is on schedule. Otherwise, Fry?”

“I got the boys making flour from those dry acorns now,” he announced, pointing to the Kitchens. “Should have some type of food by breakfast, but I can’t say that it’s gonna be good.”

Nick nodded. “Good that. Clint, Jo, any medical advice?”

I nodded for Clint to speak. I was too tired. He gave me another odd look, then said, “We can’t eat too fast. Only small portions. Our bodies need to get back to normal, but slowly. No overeating.”

Gally huffed. “Why not?”

Clint raised his brows at me, challenging me to talk. I wanted to glare, but did not have the energy, so I gathered what strength I had and explained, “Our stomaches are smaller now. If we fill them too much, we’ll vomit up everything that goes down.”

“But—”

“Just eat slow, Gally, and only eat a little bit. Okay?” I sighed. I was not ready for an argument. In fact, I was not ready for anything. No, I was ready for nothing, nothing except sleeping, sleeping and not waking up for ages, for days at least. I was ready to sleep for a year, a decade, an eternity even, I decided as my vision blurred, yes, an eternity would be good, restful. I was so tired, and so hungry, my stomach probably ate itself already, so there was no use in even eating the…

 

—

 

“Jo? Jo, wake up? Please, love, wake up.”

I heard Newt’s voice from far away, but I was not fully motivated to respond to his requests, not this time. I was so much more comfortable in the warm, dark place I was at. I had no worries there. I had no hunger, no responsibilities, and no one to be a burden to. If I stayed where I was, someone else could eat the food set for me. 

Apparently Newt did not want me to remain in that warm, dark place.

He shook me awake, and not all too gently. I opened my tired eyes to see his worried and determined face above mine. I let him see the pain in my expression, hoping it would encourage him to let me sleep again, but my pain had no affect on him. “You can’t leave me that easily, Joan,” he growled undauntedly. “No, you cannot. Come on, I have some tea here for you, and in a little bit, you can have some more soup. Yes?”

I grumbled and turned away. For the first time, I noticed that I was on the grass, and the Gathering had ended. Clint was next to me, and Nick and Alby were on a log across from us, speaking in hushed tones.

Newt helped me to sit up against the log by us. I was unhappy, but he and Clint helped to tilt some tea down my throat. I swallowed reluctantly.

“JO!” Jeff shouted angrily from my right. I turned my head in his directions, shocked to see him stomping towards us with far more energy than I would have expected a meal of acorn soup and salad to have given him.

“Jeff, man, not so loud,” Clint begged, but Jeff’s surprising rage was not stopping.

“Joan.” He stopped in front of us, hands on his hips, anger on his face. “You. Have. Been. Giving. Away. Your. Rations!” 

Clint’s annoyed expression turned to surprise as he looked from Jeff to me. Newt let out a strangled noise, and grabbed my hand in his. Clint’s surprised look morphed into anger as well.

“Jo, you know what lack of food does to a body! What were you thinking?” 

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Jeff interjected before I could utter a sound. “Joan, do you realize how much you have harmed your body? No wonder you’ve been fainting. Have you been blacking out? Shuck it all, Jo! Do you even have any muscle left?”

Newt furrowed his brows in confusion. “Muscle?”

Clint gently patted my calves to judge my muscle content. “Once your body uses up the fat storage, it moves on to muscle. You feel tired. Go into shut-down mode. If Jo has not been eating enough, her body will go into Starvation Mode faster than the rest of us. We’ve been starving, but we still have small bits of food throughout the day. Jo has had less than us.” He looked up to Jeff. “Not too bad. Most of her calf muscle is still there, I think.” He looked back at me. “Is all of your fat storage gone?”

I glared. “I have more than you. So no.”

He glanced at Jeff. “Jeff, how did you find out?”

Jeff sat down heavily on the log next to us. “Doing rounds. Boys wanted to make sure you were getting food, now that we have the oak stuff. Said you’d been giving your rations to the weakest boys since we started.”

Newt squeezed my hand. “Jo, we all had rations.” 

I glanced at him. I was tired. I did not want to talk, and I hardly had the energy to form a coherent sentence. “Med-jacks had more. Plus…those boys…no more than skin and bone! Besides,” I huffed, using a lot of effort to speak, “I had…more fat storage. It’s only been a few weeks, Clint…we’re not…at the muscle stage yet.”

“Then why share?”

“Those boys…no fat. They’d go to muscle stage…sooner.”

Clint eyed me carefully. “Fine. But now, you’re not sharing. Tell me, how long was this going to be going on?”

I shrugged. “Till we got food?”

“Well,” Jeff said sharply, “we have some now. So, get sleep, and eat food. Not too much, I guess, but more than you were. Good that?”

I nodded weakly. 

Clint and Jeff left to do rounds. Newt stayed with me. I did not have the strength to get up, and I did not let him carry me. He had his own strength to conserve. 

“I wish you had told me, love,” he sighed. 

I shook my head. “What for? You need your rations. You have muscle to keep up.”

He wrapped an arm around me. “But I could have shared with you. I could have shared with the boys.”

I turned my head to look into his eyes. “I didn’t want…you hurting.”

He frowned. “So you just let yourself hurt instead?”

I looked away. “Not so bad.”

He pulled me closer, whispering angrily, “It is!”

I squirmed uneasily. “Don’t want to fight, Newt.”

“You broke the rules, Jo! You defied the Order!”

“Order? They were staving!”

He growled. Gently, extremely gently, he set me back against a log, then stood. 

“Newt?”

He pinched his nose. “There’s a reason we have Order, Jo.” He closed his eyes shut, then said through gritted teeth, “Excuse me.” Then he swiftly strode off.

I whimpered, hurt. I did not like fighting with Newt. He was my best friend, he was my Newt. I hoped that I could sleep, since I was too weak to go find him, especially when he did not want to talk, but Nick came over, and he did not look the happiest. “Jo? Kiddo, you shouldn't have been giving your rations away.” I opened my mouth to protest, yet _again_ , but, yet _again_ , I was cut off. “No. Listen. We had rations for a reason. I get that you want to take care of your boys, but we can’t be losing you either now can we?”

I did not respond. He kneeled in front of me, and starred at me sternly. “This is serious, kiddo. You could be…well, I don’t remember all the details of what Clint said, but I’m betting that you do. So, no more sharing. Oak food will help us all. Hopefully, we get Supplies tomorrow.”  

I looked away. “I’m not sorry.”

He rubbed his nose. “I saw you and Newt.”

I looked back. “He…was angry about my defiance of Order.”

Nick raised his brows. “Uh-oh. Kiddo…you know how much he values Order.”

I shrugged. “As much as anyone.”

Nick sat next to me. “No, Jo. He cares _more_ about Order than anyone.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, kiddo,” Nick explained, “after Justin’s assault on you, Newt went nuts over Order. He wanted to make sure that things would be taken care of. While Order keeps us busy, it also keeps us safe. Order kept you safe when we Banished Justin.” 

“I didn’t know that he…cared so much about it,” I whispered. 

He waved his hand at me. “Now, your ‘defiance of Order,’ as he says, it makes him angry because it hurt you. Just like last time.”

I felt my eyes tear up. “I didn’t know that, either.”

“What the shuck did you do to him?” Minho’s voice asked. I turned my head slightly to see him walk up, irritation on his face. “Jo, what did you do?”

I huffed defeatedly and let my gaze fall to the grass. “I was just trying to help,” I whimpered, clutching my middle.

Minho squatted down in front of me. Nick remained where he was, by my side, but listened intently to Minho’s lecture without trying to defend me. Apparently I _had_ done something wrong. But, I still did not regret it. Well, other than the pain in my belly. To say that hurt would be an understatement, but my chest was aching more.

“Sweetheart I haven’t seen him muttering like that for I don’t know how long.” He eyed me warily, raising a brow and tilting his head to try to meet my eyes. “You gonna apologize?”

“No,” I gritted. “For upsetting him…yes…but…not for what I did. I’m not…sorry.”

He scratched his neck. “You gave away your food?”

I nodded.

He grunted. “So that’s what he meant.”

“What?”

“Nearly screaming about it. Said you were starving yourself. Were you?”

“No, Min,” I pressed, even lifting my head to glare, “I was not…trying to starve myself, I was simply…ensuring…the others did not.”

“She was not focusing on herself,” Nick offered.

“Well,” Minho began, but paused as Newt came up in front of us. 

“Jo,” Newt said, as Nick and Minho both got up and left us alone. Minho glanced at his Keeper, and I saw a conversation pass between them.

_Cool, it, man. She may have screwed up but she had good intentions._

_I don’t need you telling me what to do._

_I’m just saying._

_Bugger off._

_Don’t lose it._

_I…_ Newt’s shoulders slumped _. I’m fine._ Minho patted Newt’s shoulder and made to leave, but Newt stopped him with a mirroring hand on his friend’s shoulder. _Thank you._

Minho gave a small smile, then a curt nod, and disappeared. Nick had already stepped away, but watched from a distance.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Newt,” I said honestly, as he turned to look down at me. “I just didn’t want anyone else hurting.”

Newt kneeled down beside me. He sighed, then hugged me. “I’m sorry for getting angry. Just…Tell me the next time you go sacrificing yourself, okay?”

I nodded. “Deal.”

Nick returned later with food. He also gave us a blanket, since I was colder when night came. By then, Newt and I were cuddled up against each other, keeping warm.

“Newt?” I muttered, when most of the Glade was asleep.

“Hmmm?”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

He gently kissed my forehead. “Of course, Jo. Of course.”

I sighed contentedly and fell asleep against his chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Jo and Newt have had two fights in the last couple chapters. I just want you guys to know that no relationship is perfect, but fighting can actually keep it healthy. The point is that you should know how to work THROUGH a fight, and not split when you cannot agree. Even if you do not resolve the issue, you can find a way to be together despite disagreements.


	37. Illnesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gladers' immune systems are weakened from the lack of food. Now, they have to deal with the illnesses that follow. Who will escape the sickness, and who will not? More importantly, will Jo, Clint, and Jeff be able to care for them all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for the comments! Love you guys.

 

Shouting woke me up. I opened my eyes to the bright mid-morning sunlight, cuddled up to Newt and a warm blanket. We had fallen down to the grass in the night, no longer leaned up agains the log beside us. We sat up with great effort, and looked around. 

Gally was almost running over to us. “Supplies!” he shouted. Instantly, Newt leapt up, and tried to help me up, but I felt weak, and waved him off. 

“Go on,” I told him, and he pecked me on the cheek before walking quickly over to the supplies to help unload. I was cold. I wrapped myself tighter in the blanket, trying to compensate for the loss of Newt’s warmth, but it did not help much. Newt was much warmer than the blanket. 

I dozed off again, but Newt woke me up before noon. “Here, Jo,” he said happily, helping me to sit up. “Let me?” He held up a bowl of soup, and looked more excited than he had in weeks.

We had passed the test. We had earned our supplies.

He spoon-fed me soup a second time. This time, the soup was thicker, though it had nothing more than liquid. Still, each brown, flavorful spoonful lifted my spirits, and after a few days of increasing amounts of soups, the Gladers all were on the way to healing.

Soups turned into soup and tiny bits of seedy bread. We only had a few bites each, so as not to startle our stomaches. A few boys ate too much, too fast, despite the careful eye the Keepers, Cooks, and Med-jacks kept on everyone, and vomited up everything they had eaten that day. 

Still. We got better. Well, that is, until we started getting ill.

Brandon was the first to find himself with a fever. He left the Kitchen immediately, and shut himself in the Med-jack hut, hoping that he could isolate the illness. Peter was next, followed by Zart, then Ben. 

I was feeling much better, as were Clint and Jeff, and once our stomaches adjusted, we kept eating food throughout the day to keep our bodies strong. The Runners did the same, but they were preparing to go Run the Maze, while the Med-jacks were working to prepare our immune systems to fight against the sicknesses. 

We had to expand the Med-jack hut. Newly ill boys came to see us, and stayed there for a day so we could watch then, but the others were in the Council Room. It was bigger, and housed them all easily at night and parts of the day, but other parts of the day, we kept them outside, wrapped up in blankets. We did not want to confine them all the time in one room, crowded, where the illness could feed on them all, so we gave them fresh air, and kept them to one side of the Glade.

It worked. They got better faster with the blankets, fresh air, and warm food. 

We were able to welcome another Newbie, Eric, an olive-skinned boy with an odd accent. Not one like Newt’s, but an accent nonetheless. He fell in easily with the Track-Hoes, and somehow got the crops growing faster than I thought they could. I was sure to keep him away from the sick boys when he had his day as a Med-jack. That same day, I was tucking in Winston when Newt trudged in, early from his second Run, Minho helping him up.

Newt looked down at me sheepishly. “Hey, love…I, uh…”

Minho glared and said flatly, “He threw up. Either too much of that food, or he’s sick. Here ya go.” He pushed Newt towards me, and I steadied him by placing my open palms on his chest. 

I ushered him to a cot. “Come on, now. Sit here.” 

He did as I told, albeit reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Jo, I didn’t mean to give you more work.”

“Hush now,” I told him, tapping his nose. “Don’t worry about me. This is my job. Now, how hot are you?” I put my cheek to his forehead. It was burning up. 

“Alright, Newt,” I said, “start out here. I want you to take this,” I handed him a small cup of medicine, “and this,” I gave him a large cup of water, “and get some rest.” 

He drank the medicine and the water, so I refilled the water and placed it by his bed. “Whenever you wake up, drink more water.”

He smiled and nodded, then laid down and closed his eyes. I tucked his blankets in around him, then checked on Winston, whose forehead was likewise burning up. I got both of them cool cloths. Clint came in, while Jeff remained outside with the sick boys, and helped me to take stock of what medicines we were running low on.

“Personally, I like using your teas and herbs as medicine,” Clint told me when I noted how low we were on other medicines. 

I agreed. “However,” I said, “not all of my herbs can help. The new echinacea is supposed to boost immune systems, so I want Fry to give it out with dinner to help prevent more boys from getting sick. Oh, and garlic in the food should help.”

He nodded, and rose to deliver the news to our cooks. “So…still asking for more medicine from the Creators?”

I nodded. “Good to have on hand, in case of emergency.”

“Good that,” he said, and left. Meanwhile, I kept changing cloths on Newt and Winston, who thankfully had been able to sleep. However, as the day turned to night, Newt got worse. 

Jeff came in to my muttering. “Newt, you silly fool, why were you Running if you weren’t feeling good? Shuck, none of you Runners should be out, not so soon after these last few weeks.”

“Lecturing him won’t help him get better,” Jeff pointed out.

I turned around, having not heard him come in. I was sitting on a stool by Newt’s bedside, with a bucket of cool water at my feet. I kept dabbing his forehead, then rinsing the cloth, muttering, then repeating. “Jeff,” I greeted with a sigh. “I know, but still. We need to recall the Runners.”

Jeff pulled up a stool and felt Winston’s forehead. After judging the temperature a moment, he rinsed Winston’s cloth and began mirroring me. “Mm…maybe. But, so far, they all seem healed. Newt’s the only one to get sick.”

I grumbled. “I think I know why.”

Jeff gave a small smile. “Yeah, but I don’t think he minds.”

I rinsed the cloth and dabbed Newt’s forehead again, as he moaned in his sleep, his eyebrows furrowed. “Me,” I thought aloud. “I’ve been around the sick boys, and Newt’s been around me. Maybe we should quarantine ourselves.”

Jeff’s smile grew. “Not a bad idea, but I still don’t think he’d mind if you didn’t.”

I huffed as Newt turned to his side. That made it harder to dab his forehead, but I was still able to reach around him. “Well, I might mind. I don’t want him unwell.”

Jeff shrugged. “Dinner?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

He stood. “I’ll go grab some. Broth for them, too.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” I called as he left. Since he was no longer watching Winston, I switched off between rinsing the cloths on his head, and the cloth on Newt’s. 

After dinner, Clint took over for Winston, and Jeff went to sleep. Clint and I switched off checking on the boys outside, and on watching over the two with us. We had two lights to illuminate the room for when it got dark. It was late when Newt began talking in his sleep.

“Jo? Uhhh…Jo…don’t be…run! Jo, run! Use the….machete…no, no, not blood! Where…med bag? Jo?” His words grow more and more desperate. I was sure he was in a nightmare.

“Shh, shh. Newt, it’s just a dream,” I cooed, while dabbing his forehead. I was scared for him. I hated nightmares more than almost anything else. Here he was, stuck in one. He kept tossing and turning now, and the blankets I had tucked around him earlier were in a mess. 

“Bleeding!” He squirmed, reaching out his hands for something that was not there. I set down the cloth, then grasped both of his wild hands in mine.

“Shh, shh, Newt, it’s fine, there’s no blood.”

He did not seem to hear me. I kept talking to him for about two minutes, holding his hands and assuring him he was safe, hoping to ease him without have to wake him, until he suddenly sat up, awake. “Jo?” he asked.

“I’m here,” I told him gently. The lights cast a gentle glow on his face, and I could see that he was covered in sweat. “They were just dreams, Newt. You’re fine.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Bloody hell, Jo. They were buggin' nightmares.”

I handed him a cup of water. “Drink.” He did so obediently, then pulled me into a sweaty hug. 

“Glad you’re safe, love,” he said, then let me go. “Glad you’re safe.”

I felt his forehead with the back of my hand. “You still have a fever. Hungry?” He nodded, and I fetched him his bowl of broth. It was still warm, thankfully. “Let me?” I asked, smiling.

He returned my smile and nodded, almost shyly. I spoon-fed him the broth, just as he had done to me last week. It was calming, to feed him soup, in the quiet night. Peaceful, almost. I was glad that I could do this for him. Glad that I could take care of him. “There now,” I said when the bowl was empty. “Better?”

He nodded. Something in his eyes had changed. The worries from his nightmares were gone, and instead, he had a gentle gleam in his eyes. That lovely, gentle, unnamed gleam. Oh, I saw love in there, too, but that unnamed gleam was something else. Something closely related to love, but something else.

“Now then,” I whispered, kissing his forehead. “Back to sleep.”

 

—

 

Minho joined his Keeper in the Med-Jack hut. 

“Shuck this cot, Jo, I want my hammock!”

I pushed him back down on his cot. “Stay still, Minho. I don’t have enough sedative to use on the likes of you. And it’s stupid to use it when you don’t need it.”

“I’m cold!”

I tucked a blanket around him. “Stay in bed, and you’ll get nice and toasty.”

“Why am I already sweating?”

I sighed though my nose. “Minho, you have a fever. Now lay down, and I’ll get you some broth.”

“I want real food! We have some now, why do I have to have broth?”

“Because,” I pressed cooly, pushing down my frustration and covering it up with a calmness, “Chicken broth is magical, and it will help your unicorn pony butt get better.”

He snorted, despite himself. “Feed it to me?”

Newt growled on the cot across from his friend. 

Minho stared innocently up at me, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. I realized that he was annoying me on purpose, to also annoy Newt, and I shook my head at his insolence. “If you behave,” I promised, and he flashed a triumphant grin at Newt, who glared at me from under his covers, which he had wrapped all around himself, with only his eyes and nose sticking out of a hole he made to breathe.

“Newt, I’ll get you a hat if your head is cold,” I offered. I sat on his cot and reached to untangle him from the mess of blankets, but he growled again, this time at me, causing me to laugh. “Oi, silly, you’re not a caterpillar.”

He hissed.

I laughed again, “Or a cat. If you’re really cold, I’ll grab some more clothes and another blanket. Ben’s recovered, and the Sloppers are probably done washing his blankets. I can get those.”

Minho snorted, the reason why, I did not know. I glanced at him over my shoulder to see him roll his eyes and pull his blankets up. “What?” I asked, not getting it.

Suddenly, a cloth-wrapped arm pulled me down, and then I was no longer sitting, but laying down right next to Newt, as he wrapped his blankets around us both. “You’re warm,” he murmured, satisfied, and it was my turn to roll my eyes. 

“Newt,” I groaned, “I have work to do.”

He nestled me in closer. “Mm-hmm. Taking care of sick me.”

“Newt.”

“Shh,” he requested, and closed his eyes. He’d wrapped the side of one blanket around both of our shoulders and head, so we were nearly tented in it. “Just stay here. Hush.”

I sighed in defeat. “Ten minutes,” I allowed, and he nodded his assent.

I remained there for that long, then—with great effort—untangled myself from the blankets in order to fetch Minho, Newt, and a still-sleeping Winston some broth. Alby followed me in, and was ill as well, but with sleep and medicine, he recovered easily. 

By the next week, all of the sickness was gone. The Gladers were back on regular meals, and regular schedules. Jeff, Clint, and I took some well-earned rest, which not only included napping, but for me, reading up on books, making notes of the recent events, and playing with Bark, who had also filled out due to the fuller meals.

The boys who I had given my food to each came up and thanked me for my help. I did not need a thank-you, but I enjoyed receiving the hugs they gave me. I was also glad to see that their bodies were recovering well, or, at least, it seemed like it. I was not an expert in medicine knowledge, but I hoped that there would be no after-affects. 

Newt was back to Running, as were the other Runners. I missed him during the days like always, but I got to see him when he returned, so, for the most part, everything was back to our normal. 

Minho’s sass recovered even better than his health, making dinners and his days off ever so colorful. He and Fry frequently had sass-battles, as I called them, and eventually I made Minho a crown from flowers, just to annoy him.

“Queen of Sass,” I told him at dinner, as I laid the crown over his head. 

He made a face and yanked the crown off. “What the shuck? What kind of klunk is this?”

I swiped the crown and placed it back on his head. “Leave it be, oh queen.”

He put his hands on his hips. “I need a far better crown than that if I’m gonna rule this place,” he said pointedly. “It has no sparkles,” he huffed, and tossed the crown back.

“And how do you expect me to add those?” I challenged.

He sighed dramatically. “Well, I _suppose_ it will have to do,” and he reluctantly returned the crown to his head.

Gally clapped. “Minho, Sass Queen of the Glade,” he laughed, and Minho took a dramatic bow.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name from wall of names
> 
> Eric: Eric Richard Kandel


	38. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo hates nightmares. Jo really, really hates nightmares. When a Stung Runner scratches her, she is haunted by a milder form of the Changing. What will the infamous nightmares show her, and how will she endure her worst fears come to life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

 

 

Along with our recovery came our newest crisis: Carl got Stung. 

It was the end of the day, and he and Graham got back near to closing. But he was Stung on the way back, and he was already losing consciousness by the time he got back to the Glade. 

“Med-jacks!” Graham shouted as they crossed into the grass. Immediately, I ran over, Newt, who I was walking around the Glade with, right next to me. I pulled my syringe out of my med bag and quickly, I injected him with Grief Serum.

Carl fell unconscious.

Newt and Graham hauled him into the Med-jack hut, where Clint and Jeff were waiting. I checked his vitals as Clint fetched the straps we used to hold them down, and I grimaced. Soon, Carl would be trapped in horrific nightmares, unable to escape. 

I was terrified of that.

As I made notes on his temperature, Carl suddenly woke up, his eyes frenzied, his skin turning green, his veins turning purple. “A test! A test, Jo, listen, a test!” he shouted at me, and I tried to calm him down, to no avail. His face was turning color, skin contrasting with his brown hair, and it was hard to look him in the face, hard when he was awake like this. But still, I tried to calm him.

“Shh, Carl, you’re okay, it’s just a dream,” I tried, but I could feel his pain.

He grabbed my forearm, keeping me close. “A test,” he told me again. 

“Carl let go,” I demanded firmly, knowing that he would have superior strength from the effects of the Serum. “Now.”

Suddenly he jerked, and began clawing at me. I cried out in pain as his nails tore my skin, but Newt was there to push his Runner back down on the cot, pulling me out of harm’s way at the same time.

“Bloody hell they’ve never woken up have they?” Newt shouted. Clint and Jeff tied Carl down, and immediately he fell unconscious again.

The scratches on my arm was stinging. Badly. I rushed to the hot water bucket to rinse my wounds, but just as I brought my skin to the water, I saw something worse. 

My skin around the scratches was turning green.

“Uh, guys?” The stings increased in intensity. “Clint? Jeff?”

Jeff was by my side in an instant. “What…Jo, what…?”

I showed them and the two conscious Runners the problem. “It burns. Can…can he infect me? He already had the Serum in him, is that why I’m green?” Oh my gosh. I was green. “Clint?” A fire ignited in my skin. “Clint?!” 

Newt wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to a cot. “Jo? Listen to me, love, you’ll be alright.”

I fell to the ground, writhing in sudden pain. My arm, my head, my chest, by hands…I felt like I was on fire. 

“JO!” Newt was on the ground with me, but I turned away. 

“Don’t touch me!”

“Jo, it’s just me!”

“I don’t want to scratch you!” I shrieked in agony as my arm blazed in pain again. Blood must have been pouring from me, but when I saw my arm, there was no river of blood, just a sickly painting of violet and emerald. I hugged myself tightly, grasping to my medical knowledge, and knowing that I did not want to hurt my friends.

The pain subsided. I laid on the floor, but after some deep breaths, I pulled myself into a cot. Clint kneeled next to me, as Newt held me down. “Jo, you’ll be fine,” Clint promised, and held up a syringe. 

“Clint,”  I begged, “please. Don’t. It’s not that serious. It isn’t a Sting. Don’t trap me…”

“Jo, just in case…”

“No!” I shrieked, trying to lean away, but he grabbed my arm. 

“Jo it’s just Serum!”

“It’s going to trap me in a shucking nightmare!”

My arm flared up again. As I was blinded by the pain, Clint shot me with the syringe. 

The fire died down. The burning pain lessened slightly, but not enough. I must have fallen, as Newt’s eyes hovered above mine, worried and nervous. “Jo?”

“Nightmares,” I whined, feeling betrayed, just before pain shot through me again, and I screamed.

 

—

 

I was trapped. Trapped in nightmares. I relived the terrifying dreams that haunted me after Justin’s attack, where I saw Ben with green skin, Minho jumping off the Cliff, and Newt falling from the sky. With those, I saw images of the Gladers in vats of blue water, of video screens, of white cots in a large room.

I could not escape.

I could not wake up.

I. Was. Trapped.

Sometimes I thought I was fading into consciousness. I heard Clint and Jeff talking. I head Newt talking sometimes too, or Nick, or Alby. At least, I thought I did.

Newt was always worried. He was not worried if I would make it or not, he knew I would, but he was worried about my being stuck in my nightmares. He would try to talk me out of them, but that did not always work.

“Clint, why is she always screaming?” he asked my Keeper hoarsely. 

“They all scream, Newt, remember?”

He spoke more softly then. “But her screams are the worst,” he whispered.

“Newt, why don’t you get some sleep?” Nick’s voice suggested. “Jeff and I will watch her for awhile.”

“And me,” came Minho’s voice, devoid of any sass.

“But,” Newt protested in a murmur, but someone dragged him off.

“Hey, kiddo,” Nick said, loudly. Maybe he sat closer. “I know you’re stuck in those shuck nightmares. I’m so sorry. We’re all worried about you. Especially Newt. You, uh, you tend to scream a lot, just like Carl, and the others who’ve been Stung, but, uh…well, the whole Glade hurts to hear it. You’re our Minder, Jo. We all love you. And now? Now, you get to experience your worst fears.”

He laughed humorlessly, wryly noting the irony of the situation. “Jo, I know you feel betrayed, but you know it was necessary. We all hurt like you do. Especially Newt. Shuck, he can hardly bear to hear your screaming. All of us can hardly bear it. I’m just sorry you have to be stuck in those dreams.”

I was sorry too. I was sorry to see him drowning in that blue vat of water, next to Alby.

“Nick,” I muttered, opening my eyes weakly. There he was, right by my side. 

“Kiddo?”

“Jo?” Minho came forward, eyes worried. “Sweetheart, you awake?”

And then I was running, trapped at night in the Maze, trying to give advice to a boy in front of me, with brown hair and no Runner’s gear, stuck in the Maze at night. I shouted at him, shouted to look at the vines, that he could hide Alby in the ivy. I encouraged him to give one more tug. I told him to lean to the right as he dodged Griever legs. He did not see me, but he must have heard me.

“Tommy!” I yelled, but my mouth stopped moving. Instead, I saw Minho, and I tried to get his attention, to no avail.

And so my nightmares continued.

At one point I had an odd dream-like point of view, from above. I was on a tree branch. I must have been watching as if I were a Beetle Blade, because I could shift my focus like the Creators must have been able to.

Gally was trying to saw some new wood, used to fix up a side of the kitchens, but he and Ben, who was helping him, stopped frequently to grimace.

I heard my own piercing screams in the background, the cause of their reactions. At the same time, I felt my arm flare up, and felt my mouth open in a scream, just like the one echoing in the distance. “She was just trying to help him,” Gally muttered. “Just doing her job, and now this.”

Ben winced as I screamed again, the sound echoing through the Glades. Carl’s shouts joined my own. “She hates being stuck in nightmares,” Ben remembered.

Gally rubbed his nose. “Shuck. Newt’s a mess.”

Ben nodded. He set down his saw, and Gally did the same. They both sat on the grass, frowning. “Never seen him so helpless.”

“Hey, you two shanks!” Nick called. The two Builders turned to see Nick striding up with two sandwiches in his hands. “Need lunch?”

They nodded, accepting the food gratefully. Nick took a seat on the grass between the Builders. Ben looked at the leader and asked, “How’re they doing?”

Nick shrugged. “All’s normal. Well, for Carl. Jo, she’s…it’s a bit different, since she was never really Stung. She’s not all green and purple, only her arm and that side of her torso, neck, and up to one cheek.”

It was Gally’s turn to wince. “She ever awake?”

“Kinda. She fades in and out. It’s basically a less extreme version of the Changing. She’s just stuck in nightmares, and has her arm on fire.”

“Nightmares the same as Carl’s?” Gally asked.

Nick shrugged again. “Not really. Some, but from what she’s been muttering in her awake periods, they’re the same nightmares as she’s been having since…”

They all knew what he was talking about. Carl shrieked in the background, and Nick frowned sadly. “Carl’s coming out of this worse than she is, for sure. Jo?” He shook his head and said, sarcastically casual, “She’s just got to experience her worst fears, that’s all.”

Gally huffed. “She feel betrayed or anything? Clint had to sedate her didn’t he?”

Nick stood. “Oh yeah. Begged not to be given the Serum. She knows what it does.”

Ben plucked up grass and threw it in his frustration. “Newt?”

Nick turned to leave. “Hardly able to look at her. He feels awful, and it doesn’t help that half the time, she’s screaming about him.”

The Builders sat in silence until another one of my screams jolted them back into reality. 

 

—

  
My next dreams blurred with reality. Since I was not really in the Changing, I was not in a full coma. I simply wavered in and out of consciousness, as if in a serious fever. Which I was. I felt intense pressure around my skull, as if some metal bowl was keeping my head together. There was also a funny feeling in the front of my forehead. 

I saw Newt next to me, holding my hand, and I reached to touch his face, but then suddenly something inside me wanted me to grab his throat, and grasp it tightly. 

I resisted, but in doing so, I smacked Newt instead. “Out!” I managed to shout. “I’ll kill you! Get away!” Newt tried to console me, but I whacked him again. “Before I hurt you! Please, Newt, I don’t want to hurt you! Get out!”

Blurred faces pulled him, screaming, away from my side. I felt more relaxed, knowing I could not hurt him, but a dark figure—Alby—replaced him. Was Newt on the cot next to me? No, I hadn’t hurt him. But was he there, wearing white? What was the metal around his head? No, no it was just Carl, tied down as I was. I heard the same voice telling me to strangle Alby, but he pinned my hands down, telling me to calm down, that if I calmed down, I would not hurt anyone.

Newt’s shouts from somewhere unsettled me, and I did not calm down for Alby. However, his strength forced me down onto my cot, and another blur—Nick?—tied ropes on me. Those two were stronger than Jeff or Clint. In the back of my rational mind, I questioned why on earth I was not tied down before, but that thought disappeared as I fell once again into unconsciousness. 

 

—

 

I watched from a Beetle Blade again, the funny feeling in my forehead more noticeable. It was sitting on the window looking into Newt’s and my room. He was in there, tossing and turning, in his own nightmare. He kept muttering, muttering about the Maze, the Changing, and me.

He suddenly shot straight up, breathing heavily and sweating. “Bleeding!” He yelled, then leapt out of his cot and threw open the door. The beetle blade followed him, so I never lost sight of what he was doing. “She’s bleeding!” he yelled, despite the fact that it was night, and that most of the boys in Homestead were sleeping, or at least trying to.

He burst into the Med-jack hut, then rushed to my side. “Clint!” He shouted at my Keeper, trying to wake the dark-haired boy, who had fallen asleep in a chair between my cot and Carl’s. “Clint, she’s bleed…”

Clint woke and immediately stood, looking me over. The beetle blade rested on a table, unnoticed. I was able to see the entire scene. When the dream vision focused on my body, I saw no hint of blood. In fact, my arm and my whole side looked like it was healing. 

Clint put his hand on Newt’s shoulder. He looked up and sideways to the Runner, who was at least a head taller. “Newt, man. She’s fine. Almost better, even.”

“Newt?” Both boys turned to see a tired Nick in the doorway, his eyes only half-open. “Whazza matter?”

“Nothing,” Clint assured our leader. “Everything’s fine. Go back to bed.”

Nick saluted, and trudged back down the hall. Newt turned back to me and hung his head. “Sorry, Clint. Had some bloody nightmare that she was bleeding. Scratched herself, or something.”

Clint patted Newt’s shoulder. “No harm done. Go back to sleep.” He accompanied Newt to the door of the Med-jack hut. As he did, I felt a physical pain that I sensed was more real than this odd dream vision. I felt an unbearable pain and itch in my hurt arm, and, somehow connecting my mind to my body, used my free hand to scratch it. I felt that my hands were tied together, on my stomach, but I could use one hand to reach to the opposite forearm, and that is just what I did. I could not bear the agony of the itch.

Newt turned to Clint at the door and said, “You’ll keep me posted, yeah?”

“Good that,” Clint nodded. “Really, though, Newt, she should be better, today even. Carl has two or three days left, but she's not really in the Changing.”

“Just nightmares and fever,” Newt huffed. “I just…” He peeked around Clint, peering back into the room, at me, and his eyes went wide. “Clint!” He pushed past my Keeper and rushed to my side, Clint following instantly.

I was thrashing about in my sleep, and clawing at my healing arm. As I watched the scene, I felt it, too. The itch was not going away, not matter how hard I scratched it. In fact, there was a sharper, burning sensation with it, now, too. From the eyes of the beetle blade, I could see why.

I had indeed used one hand to scratch the other arm, but in doing so, I drew blood. I was scratching hard enough that I was tearing off my skin, so my arm was covered in scarlet lines, and my fingers were coated with shining blood.

“Clint?” Newt frantically tried to pull my hand from my arm, but I kept scratching. 

“Newt! Get away! She could scratch you!” Clint put his hands in cloth bags, then attempted to do what Newt was just trying to do. He, too, failed. 

“Do something!” Newt begged. “Bloody hell, do anything!” 

Clint grabbed another cloth bag and shoved it over my scratching hand. My nails were no longer a threat. He tied the bag down, then fetched a wet cloth and began cleaning the bloody arm. Newt helped by bringing him a bucket of water and a dry towel, then bandages. 

Then, Clint injected a sedative into my hurt arm, and I calmed down. He sat down heavily on a chair, and Newt slumped up against the wall. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.

Clint eyed Newt warily. “Say, Newt. How’d you…how’d you know she was gonna do that?”

Newt shrugged. “Dream?” His vision focused on my anguished face. I was not happy in my sedated sleep. “Creators are playing us, that’s what’s happening. Bastards,” he spat. “It’s another test, just like the famine was. Remember what Carl said?”

“Why test Jo?”

Newt’s expression turned to worry when I began whimpering. “Bloody hell, you think I know? She…I dunno, Clint. Why anything? Jo’s a girl. Either they’re testing her, or they’re testing us.”

“Us?”

“Sure. See how we react.”

Clint grumbled. “What shuckfaces.”

Newt nodded in agreement. “Think she’ll be fine tomorrow, then?”

Clint glanced at me. “Hope so. Go back to sleep. I’ll let you know in the morning.”

Newt got up and reluctantly trudged out. “Well. Night, Clint.”

“Night, Newt,” Clint replied, and the dream ended.

 

—

 

I awoke for good that morning, as Clint predicted. He was sitting next to me, making notes in our notebook reserved for the Changing. 

“Clint?” I croaked, my voice hoarse. I felt much better, except for the soreness on my arm. I glanced down at it and saw…scratches. “It was real?” I whispered in disbelief. 

“Jo!” Clint grinned and set the notes down. “Thank goodness. How do you feel?”

I felt my bottom lip tremble. “They were real. My nightmares. Shuck, Clint. Last night. Did Newt come in here, think I was bleeding?”

Clint nodded, frowning. “You were kinda awake then. Must have overheard it.”

“But…” I had to see Nick. I had to ask him about the conversation with Gally and Ben. If that was real…then Carl was right. It was a test. “Clint, let me up,” I commanded, referencing my bonds.

“I have to do a few tests, Jo,” he cautioned. “You weren’t Stung, but you went through a mini-Changing. We need to make notes.”

I growled at him. “Make a note that I had dreams that I was watching the Glade from the point of view of beetle blades. Like I was watching through a camera. Let me up so I can go make sure all of them were real.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Then, come straight back.”

I nodded curtly. “Good that. There’s Newt, and where’s Nick?”

“Lunch. Newt got back early. Half-day today.” Clint undid the straps on my hands and feet, and I undid the ones around my middle. 

“Thanks,” I said as I sprinted from the room. I made my way down the stairs. The sun was directly above the Glade, casting its bright light on the green grass. I raced towards the Kitchens, greeting a few Gladers on my way.

“Jo! You’re awake!” Zart called brightly from the Gardens. 

“Hey, it’s Jo!” Jackson, my ginger-haired Bagger, called, pointing at me. I waved but kept running until I got to the door of the Kitchens. I paused, breathing heavily, eyes searching widely for Newt and Nick.

There!

They were at the same table, conveniently sitting with Ben and Gally. Newt looked sullen, but the others were more talkative. “Newt!” I shouted, and ran to him. He looked up, face brightening when he saw me. He caught me up in his arms right when I got to him, hugging me tightly and swinging me in a circle. 

“Jo!” He put me down and looked me over, his eyes shining. “Jo, love, I’m so glad you’re better.” He kissed me sweetly, then embraced me again, and I took refuge in his warm, strong arms.

“Newt,” I said hurriedly, pulling away, when I remembered my task. Still holding his hands, I searched his eyes hungrily. “Newt, last night, did you have a dream I was bleeding? Before you went to check up on me?”

He nodded slowly, puzzled. I turned to the other three. “You three. Nick, did you bring Ben and Gally lunch the other day? And I was screaming from the Homestead?”

They all nodded, more scared than puzzled. “Why?” Gally asked. “Girlie, how do you know that?”

I turned back to Newt. “I think one day, there may be a boy…oh, I can’t remember his name anymore! But he isn’t a Runner, and…” I bit my lip, wondering if I should say this. 

Newt saw my indecisiveness and ushered me outside. “What is it, love?”

I looked around, but no one was with us. The other boys had drifted off. “He was in the Maze, and so were Minho and Alby. Newt, I don’t know if it was just a dream or not, but if any non-Runner tries to go into the Maze the same time as those two, just…make sure he doesn’t shucking do it.”

Newt kissed my forehead. “Promise, love. Now, how are you, really? I missed you, Jo. And I’m so sorry we had to put you through that.”

I hugged him. “It’s over now, Newt. Let’s just…let’s just be glad we’re together.” I realized how much I missed him when I was dreaming, and I was glad to be with him, not watching through a beetle blade. “If I could only see you through a beetle blade…I don’t know how I could live.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear. Shuck, I probably needed a shower. “We don’t have to do that, now do we?” 

I smiled happily. “No. I have you right here,” I sighed gratefully, and wrapped my arms around his neck as he held my waist, lifting me up into a kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so you may wonder why I play with Jo's (and other character's) nightmares. Well, if W.I.C.K.E.D. can allow her some memories, she can be given some hints of planned tests. If Tommy going in the Maze was even an inkling, then the doctors/scientists could give Jo a suggestion. It's all a test, and Jo's reactions, especially emotional reactions, are stellar, so that is why she continues to have these odd dreams. They are variables. Hence Newt's nightmare-not-nightmare. Variables to map his brain.
> 
> So when Newt tells Tommy not to "bloody do it" when he enters the Maze...
> 
> Also take note of the 'funny feelings' on the front of Jo's head..... ;)


	39. Cameras and Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gladers receive a special gift from the Creators: a camera! What—or who—will they take a photo of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Thanks for the comments you guys! Love you!

Carl recovered. Clint was able to complete his notes on my mini-Changing soon after Carl awoke, and we decided that we had to be far more careful not to be scratched by anyone who was Stung, before or after they were given Serum. I asked the Creators for some gloves for us to use, which came up the next Supplies day, along with another interesting gift.

I had just found the gloves when Gally tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see him with his eyebrows scrunched up, peering confusedly at something in his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up a small, black contraption. “Is this a…a camera?”

I took it in my hands. It was heavy! And, it was indeed a camera of sorts, big and bulky, and fitted with one single piece of photo paper—paper that was oddly large. Though I could not really remember how the paper was usually sized, it still seemed unusual. “Shouldn’t it be…smaller?”

Gally took back the black bulkiness and turned it over in his hands. “It looks like…one of those cameras that give an instant photo. Like where it spits out one piece of paper, uh, photo. But this one’s huge version of that.”

“Is it just the one piece?”

“Mh-mhm.”

“One photo?”

“Looks like.” 

I frowned. “Well what good is that? One photo. What do we take a picture of, the Glade? Better they’d sent us up a picture of something we didn’t know.”

“Stop fussing, girlie,” Gally scolded lightly. “It’s a gift.”

“Gift my butt,” I mumbled, before bringing the gloves up to show Clint and Jeff.

 

—

 

At dinner, the boys were especially rowdy. Gally had hidden away the camera, but all of the Gladers were talking about it. Who should use it? What should we take a photo of? Why did we have it, anyways?

Nick decided it was important enough for a Gathering. 

“Nick,” I growled, “that is the _stupidest_ idea I’ve ever heard.”

He sat back on his chair, hands behind his head, smirking. The Gathering was in full swing, and Nick started it right off by announcing that the general consensus of the Gladers was that the camera should be used to take a photo of me.

“Everyone agrees,” he defended, amused.

I stood. “Has everyone gone mad? A photo, wasted on me? Why the shuck on me?”

“I could name a few reasons,” Newt drawled huskily. I glared at him, and he winked. Which of course made my stomach flip and my heart beat faster, and he could tell. Shuck that boy could be smooth. 

“Because you’re the only girl, and you’re our Minder. And you’re our storyteller, so we need a portrait of you,” Nick answered. “Plus, everyone since your arrival has been greeted by you first. Think of a baby animal. The first thing it sees it deems as its mother. That’s you, kiddo.”

I scowled. “Charming. Why don’t we photograph the Runners? They’re the heroes who’re gonna get us out of here, someday.”

Newt chuckled. “No, Runners agree it should be you.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Runners, or their Keeper?”

He shrugged innocently. “Both.” 

“Whatever the case,” Nick interjected before I opened my mouth for a retort, “it’s decided. Jo, get some nice outfit together. Gotta look pretty for your picture.”

 

—

 

I rummaged through my limited wardrobe. Really, nothing I had looked nice enough for a photo, and I knew the Creators wouldn’t send up another outfit. 

I asked anyways. Of course, nothing. I kicked the dresser in frustration, but only stubbed my toe. “Ouch!” I cried, hopping on one foot. I got off balance, then fell into the doorway. 

“Jo?” Newt asked, opening the door. He’d just come upstairs. 

“M’fine,” I said, getting up and approaching the dresser once more. Back to the limited wardrobe. “Just trying to find an outfit.” 

“What about that one?” Newt asked. 

“Which one?” I glanced to where he was pointing. It was one of my v-necked three-quarter shirts, a light tan one. The sleeves were torn. “It’s awful.”

“Well, I mean, the shape of it’s not too bad.”

I rolled my eyes. “The style, Newt, not the shape. And sure, but it’s a bad color. The camera’s black and white, that will blend with my skin.” There was nothing else, though. “I suppose…maybe I can bleach it with the peroxide, make it white.”

Newt nodded. “It’s settled then. Bleach the shirt and you’ll look like a pretty little bride.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What was that?”

He gave me a peck on the cheek and skipped out of our room. “Nothing, love,” he called over his shoulder as he left. 

I could hear his smirk.

—

“This is ridiculous,” I asserted again, as I sat on a stool in the council room. “I don’t even look good.”

“Jo, you look fine,” Gally chuckled. “Now sit still so I can take this properly.”

“What if the ink is old? What if it smears? I think this is pointless.”

Nick waved his hand at my concern. He stood behind Gally, providing tips like, ‘Set the camera down so you don’t move and blur the photo,’ or ‘make sure she’s in the light.’ Newt stood next to him, smirking, with his hands across his chest. He was _so_ enjoying this. 

Nick said, “Nah, kiddo, I don’t think they’d send us a bad camera.”

“I do,” I countered easily. 

“Alright, girlie, ready? On three, and sit still!”

I put on a smile, but it was fake, and I knew it. Gally did too. He looked up from the camera, frowning. “Jo give a real smile. This is for posterity, you know.”

I raised my brows. “What ‘posterity’ do you think we’ll be getting here?”

He glared. “Not what I meant.”

Newt chuckled. “Go on then, love, give a real smile.”

It was my turn to glare.

“Newt?” Gally pleaded.

“Sure thing, Gal,” Newt responded and strode over to me.

I narrowed my eyes as he came closer, highly suspicious. “And just what do you think you’re—”

I was cut off by a gentle kiss, his hand cupping my face, my hand holding his shoulder. 

Oh.

I was lost in the moment, but then Gally cleared his throat, and Newt pulled away, smiling cheekily. I was wearing a happy smile, one that would be perfect for a—

“Hey Jo!” Gally said, and I looked at him, and then there was flash, and he had taken the photo.

“I should have seen that coming,” I muttered, still smiling. I hopped off the stool and went over to Gally and Nick, Newt taking my hand. We all gathered around the camera, waiting, but it was making odd noises. I inspected it warily. “I think there is something wrong.”

“Nah,” Nick waved off, as the camera shuddered and fell still. We all stared at it a moment, then Nick reconsidered and said pointedly, “Look, Jo, you broke the camera.”

Gally tapped it and defended, “I think it’s fine, just a little rusty is all.”

“Since when are you an expert on cameras?” I demanded in a huff.

Nick rubbed his nose. “You know, maybe there’s a manual or something.”

“No, but maybe if I just—” Gally tapped it again, and the camera shuddered once more before emitting the piece of photo paper.

Newt picked it up gingerly and let it dry. Then he showed us all the image.

The ink had smeared and dried funny, so it appeared as if I was covered in wrinkles. My face looked old, and my white blouse looked more like an old-fashioned dress. The ink smear even smudged my collar, so it was nearly halfway up my neck, not a v-neck. It looked like I belonged in a haunted mansion, not a Glade. “I look ancient,” I deadpanned. “Burn that photo. It’s awful.”

“It’s just a little smeared,” Newt brushed off. “You look lovely.”

I reached for the photo, but he held it above my head. “Newt, I’m not kidding. That photo has been defiled, and I refuse to let it be displayed. Anyone that sees it will think I’m some old lady!”

He laughed. “It’s not that bad, Jo.”

I nodded frantically. “Yes, it is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“Gah!” I huffed. “Fine. We’ll ask the next newbie what he or she thinks. If he or she thinks it’s an old woman, we burn it. Deal?”

He considered my offer a moment, glanced at the other two boys, who agreed, then nodded and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

The next newbie was a boy named Henry. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a nose he had not quite grown into yet. 

“It’s a pretty girl,” he told me. “Looks like you, actually. Is it?”

I grumbled. Nick, acting as witness for Newt, who was out Running, laughed. “See, Jo? The photo’s fine. Greenie says so. It stays, and we’re gonna frame it and put it right here in the Homestead.”

I sighed. “Do we have to? We don’t even have a frame.”

“And what are Builders for?” Gally cut in. He was unloading supplies, but wanted to see the continuation of the argument from other day. 

I glared. “Building useful things. Unlike frames for ugly pictures.”

He shrugged innocently. “Won’t be for an ugly picture. Hey, Ben, wanna help me build a picture frame?”

The ginger builder nodded excitedly. “Where should we put it?”

Gally handed his friend a box of apples. “Homestead?”

Ben took the box. “Good that. I’ll bring this to Frypan. Then, let’s get working!”

 

  
—

 

Against my wishes, they did hang the photo in the Homestead. Right before the stairs. I would forever hold that I looked ancient in it, but one against the Glade was not a winning battle for me.

So it stayed.

I thought it might be nicer if we put some flowers there, but the only vase we had was the one in my bathrooms, and Gally insisted that that vase was for me. I noted that if we ever got another vase, it should go in the Homestead.

Until then, I would embarrassedly avert my eyes whenever I walked by that cursed photo, much to everyone’s amusement, and after a while, I was happy to laugh right along with them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name came from Wall of Names  
> Henry: Henry Moseley
> 
> (Ahem page 17 TMR. Photo. :D )


	40. Never Forget You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo has a nightmare that she forgets Newt. What will she do to ensure she never forgets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

I woke up from a nightmare, crying. The fear and dread I felt was overwhelming, because it had followed me from my sleep to being awake. Newt had his arms around me in a second, rocking me back and forth and telling me that I was okay.

“I dreamt—I dreamt I forgot you,” I sobbed into his shoulder. It must have been around two in the morning. All was quiet, except for my crying, but I couldn’t stop my tears. “I dreamt that I saw your face but forgot your name. Then I forgot your face and your personality, and just, you.”

“Shh, love, don’t think of that. You know me now don’t you?”

“But what…what if I don’t, one day?”

“Your stories, Jo,” he began, but I cut him off.

“My stories don’t work if I can’t remember them!” I almost shouted. I _hated_ being trapped in nightmares. “What if it’s something in my head? Like some disease? What then?”

“That won’t happen,” he said, but I easily countered him.

“I can’t remember my family. You can’t remember your family. What then, hmm? Swiped memories?”

He had no answer to that. I searched for one the rest of the night—or, morning, by then—but did not think up an answer until later that day, after I waved Newt off, after my eye caught the Wall of Names.

It was when I was staring at the names engraved in the stone that an idea rooted itself inside my mind, and I was determined not to let it—or Newt—go.

I went to Gally for scrap metal, then spent the day working on my project. By that evening, I had four perfect metal letters shaped and stuck backwards in a metal rectangle, which was attached to a long handle.

“Jo, what is that?” Newt asked from the doorway. His golden hair was wet from his shower. 

I was somewhat embarrassed, but my determination overpowered my shyness. I showed him what I had made.

Out of the scrap metal, I had fashioned four letters into his name. _Newt_. After my nightmare, I was determined not to forget him, ever, and even if I did, even if the Creators wiped my memory again, I would have a permanent reminder of the friend—and love—that I once had. So tonight, I was going to heat up the lettering, and burn it onto my skin.

His eyes bulged. “There is no way I am letting you burn yourself.”

I huffed. “Newt I don’t want to ever forget you. This? This will ensure that I’ll at least have a reminder.”

He pressed the metal down, his lovely brown eyes imploring me to see reason. “Nothing will happen to you, love. Please. Don’t burn yourself.”

“It’s not like that, Newt,” I argued. “It’s a reminder, not a self-harm thing! Think a tiny, very meaningful tattoo, but we don’t have those.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“Make one for me. With your name.”

“Done.”

 

—

 

The next evening, Newt and I sat across from each other, straddling a log in the Bonfire area. We had a small fire going, and were heating up our metals. Gally was there to help. Since we both wore watches on our left wrists, we decided to put the names on our right wrists. They were small, and would not be a part of skin that would stretch significantly with age. I knew that tattoos would fade or expand and become seriously unattractive over time, but these scars would not be like that. And, they were not silly things, but special reminders and tools to ensure we could never forget each other.

“Ready?” Newt asked. My metal was hot enough. Gally was kneeling beside the fire. He let us know when the metal was heated enough to leave a lasting mark, and was there to help us if we needed. But, Newt and I wanted to be the ones to put the marks on each other. 

I nodded. We had no ice or water nearby, because we were not trying to prevent the burns from scarring. Since, when trying to prevent said scarring, one would draw the heat out of skin with ice or water, we decided that it was probably more useful to our cause to not use water. But, we were not sure, and I hoped that everything would turn out.

I took a deep breath as Newt picked up the cool end of the metal rod. Gally grabbed my palm and my forearm, holding my right wrist steady, and I shut my eyes. “One,” Newt counted, “two—”

On two, he pressed the metal to my skin. I bit down on my lip, hard, and shrieked quietly, but did not move. Newt held the metal there for ten seconds, then pulled it away. I opened my eyes to see his name in red letters on my skin. It hurt, but it was there.

I smiled.

“My turn,” he said, kissing my fingers. I nodded, grabbing his rod, with my name on it, as Gally took his friend’s fingers and forearm. He took a breath as I prepared myself. “Go,” he said, but fixed his eyes on me, not closing them like I did.

“One,” I counted, then set the metal onto his skin. He let out a small cry, but did not move. I, too, held for ten seconds, then tossed the metal away. I inspected the burn, and was happy to see my two letters on his skin. Both of our scars would be easily readable by the owner of said scar, so when I brought my hand up, Newt’s name was right-side up. 

“You guys are nuts,” Gally muttered. He took up the metals. “Get some rest, you two crazy lovebirds,” he joked, then left us.

Newt and I embraced each other. “Now we’ll never forget,” I announced gladly. 

He smiled and stood, taking me with him. “I could never forget you, Jo. Never.”

I stood up on my toes and kissed him. “And I won’t forget you, Newt. You’re my best friend.”

He took my hands and placed one on his shoulder, and kept the other in his grasp. “And you’re mine. Best friend, and true love. Yes?”

I let my head fall to his chest. “Of course, Newt. I could not ask for anything better.”

 

—

 

The burns turned out well. I found myself glancing at it often, just to smile over its existence. Some of the boys began asking about it, and I had to answer some fun questions about it the next time I told a story.

It had been about Cooper, who was one of Gally’s top Builders now. He started carving people’s names into wood blocks, so each boy had something with his name on it, other than the Wall. Frypan brought up the scars on Newt and my wrists, so we had to show everyone what they looked like.

“Did it hurt?”

“How long does it last?”

“Can I have one?”

“You don’t have a girl, dummy!”

“Are they like wedding rings? Vow thingies?”

The last comment got me blushing. Newt and I were teenagers. We were not ‘married,’ but I did feel like our scars were some type of promise. We were, after all, not just a couple. We were best friends, and our friendship had simply expanded into a more loving, romantic relationship. 

Newt was not daunted by the question. “When we get married, I will have something of a ring for her. These scars are here to ensure that whatever the bastards who put us here do, we’ll never forget each other.”

“Or if we do,” I explained, “then we’ll have these scars to remind us that we once loved each other.”

Newt nodded. “Exactly. Now, who wants another story?”

Everyone applauded. “Ooh,” Brandon called from next to Frypan. “What about when you first met?”

“Or the first kiss?” Lou suggested. 

Everyone laughed. I felt myself blush more, thinking it hilarious how all of these boys were interested in romantic stories. Shuck, I would never have expected that. I mean, some were a bit grossed out, but at least found us amusing.

“Well, Jo is a bit clumsy, sometimes,” he began, and many boys chuckled. “She was carrying a box of girl clothes to my room, where Nick assigned her,” he pulled me close, “because I was… _safe_ ,” he rumbled huskily, causing me to laugh uncontrollably and shove him away.

“Because you’re a _gentleman_ ,” I emphasized. “Newt went to help me carry the box, and instead—”

“Instead, she tripped us both, and when we landed, our faces were mere _inches_ apart, and I’ll tell you boys, I was ready to kiss her then and there.”

I glanced at him. “You never told me that,” I noted, but was happy to hear it.

He shrugged. “Being a gentleman.”

“Well,” I said, moving to sit on his lap seductively, “I was ready to kiss you too. You had some look in your eyes, and…well, I love it.”

Gally cleared his throat. “Let’s not get too steamy,” he teased.

“First kiss,” Newt continued. “We made up star constellations, and kissed after making one of ourselves,” he summarized easily, then kissed my nose.

“Ohhh,” Ben drew out. “That’s where you get all those star stories. The hammer?”

“For you Builders,” I confirmed. “Exactly right, Ben.”

He nodded. “So. Meeting, kiss, and now, those name scars. Any other fun stories?”

I looked at Newt. His eyes were twinkling humorously, but he offered no other story. I had a few in mind, but I decided that we could just keep them to ourselves. “Nah.”

“Then it’s bed-time, shanks,” Nick announced. “Enough romantic stories for the day. Sweet dreams, boys and girl!”  
Newt and I sat up talking a lot that night. He had a rest day the next day, so he could afford a late night. We went through our months since I arrived, talking about times we wanted to  kiss but did not, which turned out to me a great number. 

“I like how it turned out,” I told him when we finally laid down to sleep. “It worked for us.”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “And now I can kiss you whenever I want.” To prove his point, he kissed me then, and in my dreams, he kissed me even more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do NOT try this at home!


	41. Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why does Gally like to be called Captain? Because of his friends, of course. What will happen when he has a slip-up in some water?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

The Newbie arrived soon after our story day, so I was thinking of what stories to tell at the Bonfire. When I got into the Box to greet the new Glader, I was met my a polite but firm handshake of a boy with pale white skin, squinty eyes and jet-black hair. “Please tell me you’ve been sent by the authorities around here?”

I returned the handshake just as firmly. “Basically. My name is Jo.”

“Wyck.”

“Well, Wyck, let’s get you out of here.” Newt, who was there that day, pulled me out of the Box, the he and Gally helped pull out Wyck. I suspected the boy, who was slim and a bit taller than Newt, was around sixteen. “Welcome to the Glade.”

He looked around, his face unreadable. “Um…okay, so who can tell my why I can’t remember anything?”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll give you the Tour, and answer any questions I can.”

He had a lot, but let me explain, then asked his questions all at once. Since I had already told him what I knew, he only had a few left. One included the burn in my skin, to which I explained that I was with Newt. He extended his well wishes, and I was quite pleased to have such a well-maundered new Glader.

That night, he sat with Newt and I as I told stories. I talked of Alfred that night, and of Aidan. Newt added in details for both, then I continued to talk of Dmitri. The night was filled with smiles and laughter, and I was glad that stories were able to bring some respite to the hard lives we were living.

Hard, indeed. I did rounds the next day to check up on everyone, including Wyck, who was working in the Gardens. He was not doing too good as a Track-hoe, but Zart kept his spirits up. I went to see the Bricknicks and Builders, who were working together in the Bloodhouse to rebuild pens for the new animals we had received. 

Of course, I tripped over a pile of wood. “That was _not_ there a second ago!” I insisted from my seat in the dirt. “Someone made that wood invisible just to spite me!”

Everyone started laughing. “Girlie,” Gally chuckled, pulling me up, “how is it that you’re such a careful Med-jack, but then can be so clumsy?”

I brushed off the dirt from my behind. “What a question,” I retorted dryly. “Line up. I’m checking for injuries or colds.”

“We’re all fine, princess,” Ben sighed, but got into line anyways.

“Well, then this won’t take long, will it?” I checked each boy one by one, but found that Ben and Cooper both had splinters. “Come on,” I said. “I’ll take those out.”

They both winced, but let me do my work. When I was done, I stood, readjusting my med bag. “All done. Alright then, I’ll see you all—Ack!” The new goat had got out of her pen and I tripped over her. “Goat!” I accused, trying not to be at fault for my clumsiness. With a grimace, I realized that I had fallen into a pile of cow poop, so now I was a mess. “Great,” I muttered.

Gally helped me up.“Jo, why don’t you go shower off?”

I inspected the damage, and agreed. “Oh,” but I remembered, “I still have to check on the Sloppers.”

Gally crossed his arms firmly across his chest. “That’s an order, Jo.”

I decided that a shower would not be too bad, and the Sloppers would not want a smelly Med-jack anyways. “Aye, aye, captain,” I saluted, then left. 

At dinner, I called Gally ‘captain’ again, and decided that that would be my pet name for him. Everyone agreed that it fit him well, and if I was around, the others called him ‘captain’ as well. 

 

—

 

The next day was busy. “Hey Jo?” Jeff called frantically up the stairs, around noon. I was in the Med-jack hut, and had just finished making the cots up. The Sloppers had just washed the pillowcases. “Grab a flashlight!”

I did as he asked, and when I turned to see who he was hauling through the door, I saw none other than Clint. My Keeper was groaning and holding his head, and I could see an egg forming on his forehead. “Clint? What the shuck did you do?”

He moaned.

I helped Jeff get him on a cot, then used the flashlight to check his pupils. They did not react. 

“Hit a table,” Jeff told me. “There was a mess in the dining area. Clint slipped in the water, hit his head on the corner of the table. I think he's got a concussion.”

I nodded. 

We got Clint set up, and no sooner had Jeff and I finished with him did Nick and Alby come in, supporting an unconscious Gally between them. 

“Now what?” I scolded, immediately blaming them for Gally’s injury.

They laid him on a cot. “Slipped, like Clint, but knocked himself out,” Nick explained.  

“Great,” I moaned, and Jeff and I laid him down. “Hey? Hey, cap? Captain Gally, are you listening?”

Nothing. He was unconscious for a few minutes, and woke with a splitting headache. “Ohh,” he moaned. 

“Ah, captain, rejoining the world, are we? Here now, sit up slowly. Slow—Gally! I said slowly!” He was not doing as I asked, as per Gally’s personality. “Here,” I commanded, handing him a cup of water. “Drink. How is your head?”

He drank, then swore. “Shuck, girlie, what happened?”

I took the cup. “Hit your head, same as Clint here.”

He looked over to the cot where Clint was. “What? Clint? Aw, shuck.”

I used a flashlight to check his eyes. Nothing seemed off, but I wanted to keep him there that day anyways, just in case. I handed him a notebook. “Here. Write down stories of your Builders.”

He rubbed his head. “Can’t I just go back to work?”

“Nope,” I ordered. “Start writing. You’ll be here for awhile.”

He groaned, but did as I asked. He wrote stories until late afternoon, when the Runners returned. Newt came up, ready to tease. “Hey, Captain Gally, go down with the ship? Heard you had a slip-up in some water.”

“Newt,” I scolded.

Gally glared. “Word travels fast. Faster than you,” he poked.

Newt plunked himself down across from the Builder. “Well at least I get to exercise every day. See these muscles?” He stretched out his legs. “These you only get from hard work.”

Gally held up his arms. “Sorry, Newtie. You got nothing against these biceps.

Newt whistled in mock impressiveness. “You sure got a pair of guns there, Gal. But,” he rolled up his t-shirt sleeves, “I believe that my _canons_ may be stronger yours.”

Gally raised his eyebrows. “Really? A Runner’s arms versus a Builder’s arms? Oh, Newtie, you are _way_ outgunned.”

Newt grinned smugly. “Let’s put it to the test, hm?”

Gally nodded. “A fine idea. Girlie?”

I froze when they both turned to me, holding out their biceps. “Oh no,” I said sternly, trying not to laugh, since they were doing so well not letting their amusement reach to their mouths—though it was obvious in their eyes—“I am _not_ getting involved in this!” 

They both stood and approached me. “Oh, come on, my love,” Newt crooned. “You know you love my arms.”

“But mine are obviously stronger,” Gally urged.

“Uh-uh. I’m not acting as judge here,” I insisted, holding my palms out in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Ask Clint if you want an answer.”

“Noooo,” Clint moaned from his cot. 

“Come on, girlie. Who’s got the biggest biceps?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Biggest?” Both boys nodded. I sighed, then announced, “Frypan.”

Clint guffawed. Newt and Gally gasped in mock horror. “How could you say that?” cried Newt. “These biceps hold you every night!”

“And these biceps,” Gally nodded to his flexed arms, “caught you when you fell from a roof!”

I laughed, no longer able to contain my amusement. “Grammar, boys. ‘Biggest’ refers to three or more. ‘Bigger’ refers to two. You said ‘biggest,’ so I added in a third party. So there.” I went to Gally’s cot and took up his notebook, which I transferred to a cabinet. 

“‘So there,’ huh?” Gally mused. Uh-oh. Something in his voice suggested that…

“Eeek! Newt!” I shrieked and laughed when Newt picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. Gally, eyes shining, opened the door, and Newt carried me out the door, making sure to bounce with every step. “Ne-ew-t!” I giggled, trying to steady myself on his bouncing shoulders, but failing. Gally trailed behind us, whooping. “Ga-al-ly ne-ed-ds t-o-o si-it!” 

“Nope!” Gally whooped. “We’re going to judge our biceps against Frypan’s!” 

As Newt ran, Gally was still behind me, making faces to keep me laughing. Newt spoke to me as I bounced, saying, “Feel these biceps, Jo? Feel how strong they are? Way stronger than Captain Gally’s, now aren’t they?”

We got into the kitchen. “Fry!” Gally called. “Hold out your arm!” 

Frypan came over. “And just what do ya think you're doing in my Kitchen?” he asked sassily. “Cupcake, these shuckfaces bothering ya?”

Newt bounced me. “We want to know who has the biggest biceps. Jo said it was you, so we’re here to compare.”

I laughed, holding on to Newt’s shoulders as he twisted in circles. “I am not a part of this!”

“She won’t choose between us,” Gally complained. “So she chose you.”

Frypan put his hands on his hips. “Well of course she did,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing. “I _do_ have the biggest biceps. Everyone knows that, or at least everyone other than you two toothpick-armed twigs.”

Newt and Gally both choked, and the Cooks erupted into laughter, banging pots and twirling dish towels in the air. 

“Did you hear that?” Newt said to Gally. “He called us twigs.”

“I’m hurt,” Gally pouted, putting a hand to his chest. “Maybe I should go do some push-ups to feel better.”

“Good idea,” Newt agreed. “I think I’ll do some Jo-ups.”

“You are _not_ benching me,” I groaned wryly. 

Gally looked sympathetically at Newt. “Yeah, she’ll only let Frypan, Keeper of the Biceps, bench her. Sheesh, Newt. How dare you even suggest it.”

Newt sighed dramatically. “I suppose I just have to accept it, then.”

“Newt,” I groaned again. They were being _so_ silly. 

“She just doesn’t appreciate my biceps.”

Gally shrugged. “Hate to break it to you, Newtie, but there’s just _not enough there_ to appreciate.” 

Newt turned to face Gally, so I was turned to face the rest of the Kitchen. “Oh, really?”

Gally spread his hands. “Just telling you the truth, man.”

“Maybe we should put it to the test,” Newt challenged. 

“Yeah,” Gally accepted, puffing up his chest.

“Boys!” I groaned. “We _just_ went through this!”

They both burst out into laughter. “Alright, alright, Jo,” Newt allowed, bouncing me again. “Let’s go do some Jo-ups then.”

“Yeah, out of my Kitchen!” Fry demanded sassily. “Y’all can take your little muscle fight outside!” 

Newt pranced me outside, and Gally followed. They both insisted on benching me, to which I reluctantly complied, after a losing protest. Both were surprisingly able to bench me, which I did not expect. I was embarrassed at first, thinking I would be too heavy, but they found me easy to lift. 

“You love my arms the most, don’t you love?” Newt asked humorously as he held me that night. “You were just being polite to Gally.” For good measure, he tightened his embrace around me.

I chuckled. “Of course, _Newtie_. Your arms are certainly my favorite.”

He kissed my cheek. “And you’re my favorite one to hold.”

“Obviously,” I huffed, settling my head against his chest. 

“Obviously,” he chuckled, and leaned his cheek against my forehead.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wyck: TMR Wall of Names, future scientist 
> 
> I wanted a chapter explaining Gally's desire to be called "Captain." Here ya go. 
> 
> Also my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed the happy times in that chapter.


	42. Say Goodbye?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gally goes into the Maze. Jo hears voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: graphic injury 
> 
> This will change everything. But just trust me, okay?
> 
> Reference dreams, including feelings in 38: Trapped 
> 
> Oh and yes this chapter is incredibly short, but that is because I separated it from the HUGE chapter it originally was a part of (next chapter).

One day, one horrible day, Gally entered the Maze. He did not go far, he was just getting some ivy for building. I thought. The ivy in the Maze was stronger than that in the Glade, so it would make sense if he just wandered in a few feet. I was checking up on Ben that afternoon, making sure he was resting his sore arm, when I heard Gally screaming from inside the Maze. 

I sprinted to him. 

Alby was on him in a second. “Med-jack!” he called out, and I rushed into the Maze with my med bag, praying that he was okay. The Maze Walls did not faze me, I was focused on my patient.

He was Stung. Right in his leg. “The Serum, quick!” Alby shouted, and I immediately reached in my bag for the prepared syringe. 

“Hold him down!” I told Alby, ready to shoot the Grief Serum into Gally’s leg, but he was thrashing about. Alby steadied Gally’s leg and I shot the needle in.

Within seconds, Gally stopped struggling. 

“What the shuck?” Alby breathed. “Griever so close to the Glade, before the doors closed?” Other boys were gathering at the entrance to the Maze. Clint left the Glade and ran towards us to provide an extra hand.

I squinted into the darkness. “How is that even possible?” I suddenly did not like it in here.

“Jo!” I heard Newt call. 

I frowned. “Did you hear that?” I asked Alby.

He looked scared. “Hear what, she-bean?”

“JO!” Newt screamed. I jumped up, my head snapping wildly from Gally to the Maze, where Newt was, and back to Gally. I felt pressure around my head, like a metal crown or bowl was surrounding my skull. I knew this feeling. What was it? Why was it so intense? And why was there a funny tickle in my forehead?

“Jo, what is it?” Alby pressed.

“Newt!” I called, but Alby put his hand on my arm, his face terrified. “Newt,” I whispered. “Can’t you hear him?”

“Jo, no!” It was a girl’s voice this time. A girl I recognized. I almost had a name, but then…I couldn’t remember. 

I shook my head, shrugging him off. “Alby, something’s off in my head. I keep hearing voices.”

“Leave her be! It’s not time yet!” a young male voice protested. I recognized him, too.

“She-bean?” Alby was really worried now. Clint and Stephen were dragging Gally out of the Maze, and Alby was trying to lead me out, too. 

“Just another variable,” a man’s voice drawled sickeningly. 

“NO!” the girl screamed. “At least let her say goodbye!”

“Say goodbye?” I repeated. Alby was scared, I let him tug me to my feet. “Alby, what about Newt? I heard Newt. Something…Alby Newt’s okay, right?”

He nodded frantically, anything to get me to walk back to the Glade. But something in my head, something about that voice, begging to let me say goodbye… “Alby promise you’ll take care of Newt,” I begged, and he nodded again, scared of what I was saying. What _was_ I saying? What was wrong with me?

As we were about to cross back into the Glade, fire, white-hot fire, tore a hole through my chest. I cried out when it went in, then again when it went out, but when it went out, I crumpled. 

“Hey, hey, KID!” Nick screamed. He had materialized in front of me, and somehow I was falling, falling down. It hurt, shuck it hurt so bad, what was this in my chest? 

I saw Ben, I saw Nick, I saw Alby. All hovering above me, but their faces swam in and out of darkness, and I heard sobbing, and I heard screaming, and I heard the girl’s voice telling me that I was okay, to not worry, it wasn’t even real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW.
> 
> JUST TRUST ME OKAY? I'M STILL BRINGING YOU TO CH 57, THIS IS NOT OVER.
> 
> I PROMISE TO POST NEXT WEEK. DON'T WORRY, JUST TRUST ME. I HAVE A PLAN DON'T FRET. YES THIS WILL CHANGE EVERYTHING, BUT ALL (most) WILL BE REVEALED NEXT CHAPTER.
> 
> (also HAHAHAHA *evil laugh*) 
> 
> I love you guys.
> 
> And I edited this to accommodate the Fever Code, so it all will still make sense with the books! :)


	43. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo finds that there is far more to the Maze than anyone ever would have thought...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> This will change everything. But just trust me, okay?
> 
> Reference dreams, including feelings in 38: Trapped

I shot up suddenly out of bed, as if from a horrible nightmare.

I _was_ in a bed. Not the Box, not a cot, not a mattress on the floor. 

I was in a white bed in a white room wearing white clothes, and a girl— _a girl!_ —with dark hair was sitting next to me, her blue eyes worried and wet with tears.

“Hey, Jo,” she croaked.

I frowned. Where was I? Why wasn’t I in the Glade? I looked around to see around thirty other beds, all occupied with the sleeping bodies of teenage boys.

The Gladers.

“What…?” I stuttered, but she gently put a finger to my mouth. “Come on, Jo, let’s get you out of here, I’ll explain everything. I really mean everything.”

She helped me out of bed. I had been hooked up to a variety of tubes and computer screens, but she guided me out of them and out of the white room.

Newt.

Newt was sleeping right there, right next to me. I’d recognize him anywhere, even in this odd room, even with the dim light and the odd clothes he was wearing, and some sort of headgear across his forehead and the back of his skull. Had I seen that before? Well, it was still my Newt.

In a little nook in the side of the room, Gally was tossing and turning, crying out every now and then. He had a computer screen hooked up to him as well, the cords attached to the odd headgear, and tons of bright images were flashing by. The other boys were all connected by headgear and tubes to one giant screen in the middle of the room. Well, a couple screens, all in a cube. On one of them, I saw Clint cleaning Gally’s leg, but—hold on, Gally was right here!

“Come on,” the girl protested, pulling me out the door. I shoved off her hand and stared at the screens, shocked.

On one of the screens, I saw Nick. 

He was cradling my body. My bloody, limp body. There was a ginormous red blotch on my chest, and my eyes were open, and he was sobbing, and Ben was just staring, and Alby had his head in his hands. 

I was dead.

“How is this…”

The girl finally pulled me out of the room, and sat me down on a bench right outside.

“Jo, it’s me. It’s Teresa. Please, Jo, listen to me. The Maze? It’s all a test. It’s a Trial, to map the brain, the Killzone. All of it was in your head. It’s a simulator, none of it was real. I mean, it was real in your head, but you were never really in the Maze, or the Glade. You were asleep. It was in your head.”

The voices. The voices in my head. “I heard you, talking, just now,” I told her. 

She nodded. “Janson, he wanted to throw in another variable. Wanted to pull you out, so he had a Griever stab you. I’m so sorry, Jo, I wanted him to wait, I didn’t think it was time, I at least wanted you to be able to see Newt again.”

Newt.

Oh, shuck, Newt.

I was dead. He was in the Maze. Or, the simulator. The simulator?

Shuck, shuck, shuck.

“What the hell do you mean he had a Griever stab me?” I screeched. “Who is this bastard? What gives him the right to mess with my head? Hmm? What the shucking hell—”

“Jo!” a familiar voice shouted. 

I turned, then froze. Aidan.

“Aidan?” I whispered. He approached me slowly, nodding.

“It’s true, she-bean. It was all simulated in our heads. It was for an experiment.” 

I looked back at Teresa. “Okay. I’m calm. Explain it all.”

“W.I.C.K.E.D. That’s us, that’s the scientists here, we’re trying to find a cure for the Flare,” she began.

 

—

 

“So…the Maze Trials are just Phase One?” I asked. Teresa had spent the last hour de-briefing me about the condition of the world, how some children were immune to the Flare, and how we were all a part of an experiment to map the Killzone and find a cure. Group A, the boys and me, Group B, a Glade full of girls.

“But Tom, he figured out that the trials could be conducted more efficiently if the test subjects were put in a simulator rather than an actual Maze. We have it built and everything, but since we have two groups, it’s easier to just regulate everything though the computers. Subjects believe they’re in the Maze, so it’s basically real. You all have chips in your brains, from the initial surgery, and it connects to the headgear you all wear, which hook up by cords to the computers and monitor screens. This way, we can more easily throw in variables and map characteristics while the subjects are asleep, and that helps us to map the Killzone. Plus, we’re not wasting any lives, since if you ‘die’ in the Maze, you really just wake up here.”

I was overwhelmed. “Everything is in our head?” I felt my skull, wondering where the chip was.

She nodded. “Chip is harmless without the computers. It’ll dissolve eventually, too.”

“When?”

“From now? Mm…about six years.”

I sighed. A chip? And, my worst fear, being stuck in a nightmare, unable to wake up, had been real. But, this meant…no one who had died, actually…died. With a flash of sudden panic, I looked to the burn of Newt’s name in my wrist.

It was not there. 

I whimpered, rubbing the spot. “What about injuries?”

“All mental. All variables,” Teresa said apologetically. “Once you wake up, you’re back to normal. I’m sorry, Jo. There’s no name there.”

I held back tears. “That scar was supposed to stay there,” I growled. Teresa just inclined her head sadly. I asked a more weighted question. “Am I immune?”

She laughed. “All of us kids are. Otherwise we’d go crank crazy before the Trials finished. There are some subjects who, in the Simulator, are non-immune, used as ‘control subjects’ but it’s just another variable. Not real. If you’re in the Trials, you’re immune. Plain and simple.”

I wondered why there were no non-Immunes for real in the Trials.

Teresa laughed at me again. “If they have the Flare, they won’t be able to be in the Trials very long, now will they? We could potentially ‘kill’ them, but that might be an unwanted variable. So we just use Immunes.”

“So…who are _theoretically_ ‘not Immune’?” 

She shrugged. “Newt. Alby. Ben. Jackson. Brandon. Um…there are some girls too.”

“The Group B girls? Can I meet them? You know, I haven’t seen another girl in months, now.”

“Eleven, actually. One more month would have been your one-year anniversary of arriving.” I winced, as she continued, “But, sure. You’ll live and work with the Group A kids, but you can visit the girls. Your interaction with them will be regulated by the doctors. They still want to analyze your brain patterns.”

I frowned. “How do you map the Killzone?”

“Like I said, it’s in the brain. We use the computers to map it, but Chancellor Paige still is in favor of a surgery of the Final Candidate at the end of all the trials. Me? I’m not for it. Neither’s Tom. We’re trying to make sure all the mapping is done with the computers.”

“Then what?”

“Chancellor Paige has a place for all the Immunes to go. A paradise really, as a fresh start for everyone resistant to the Flare. It’s my top choice; it’s her back-up plan. Last resort, just a place for us to go in order to continue the human race.”

I eyed her cautiously. “And the real non-immunes?”

“They rot here. I just hope I can convince her to let us go before we have to finish all the Trials. Scorch? I’ve seen them preparing the simulator for that, it won’t be pretty.” She shuddered. “Be glad you won’t be experiencing that one.”

“Why not?”

“You’re dead to them, Jo. Can’t see them again till they all wake up, whether they ‘die’ or the Trials end. Can’t go back unless Janson sends you in as some sick variable to mess with someone’s mind. Did that to Group B, sent in a ‘dead’ girl to see how her friend would react. That friend ended up jumping over the Edge, woke up here scared senseless. Waste of a subject.”

A boy walked around the corner. He was tall, with brown hair. “Jo,” he said apologetically, running over, “Jo I tried to stop him. I said it wasn’t time yet. I’m so sorry.”

“Tom, hey,” Teresa said quietly. “How are the Gladers?”

He shook his head. “Not too good. Gally and her in the same day—I don’t know what Rat-face was thinking.” He looked at me sadly. “Probably don’t remember me. I’m Thomas. Uh,  Gally’s having a rough time in the Changing. It’s gonna affect him the rest of the Trials.”

Teresa inclined her head sadly. “I was afraid of that.”

“Jo, come on,” Thomas said. “You can come see Gally.”

The pair of them stood, then brought me back into the white room. Gally was still thrashing about. I noticed, his nose was a bit different. It looked broken, in fact. On his computer screen, I saw images of him in the Med-jack hut, his skin turning green, his veins swelling up.

The Changing.

But here he was in front of me, normal skin. 

“Not my idea, Jo, but you need to talk to him. Another variable.Chancellor Page demands it.”

“What?” I was so lost.

He nodded at Gally. “He’s in the Changing. He’s getting some memories back, but he’s also gonna need to talk to you. To us. He’ll be half-awake, half-asleep, in between the Maze simulator and this.” He pulled a white curtain around us, blocking Gally’s view of the rest of the room.

Teresa took my hand. “We’re right here with you, Jo,” she said comfortingly. I squeezed her hand back. She was a friend, I knew it. She was my friend and these Trials were shucked but I knew that I had Thomas to thank for my life. After all, it was him who suggested the Simulator and not real-life trials.

“Alright, half-waking in five, four, three,” Thomas counted down, typing in codes in Gally’s personal computer, “one.”

Gally stirred. His eyes fluttered open. They wandered for a moment before resting on Thomas, then Teresa, then me. “Jo?” he muttered weakly. “Girlie, that you?”

Teresa nudged me forward. “Ya. Ya, Gal, it’s me. Hey, you’re okay. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Who’re these shanks?” 

“Friends. Gally, um…” I didn’t know what to say. 

“Gally, do you remember the Maze Trials?” Thomas asked.

Gally looked puzzled. “What?”

Thomas entered in some codes on his computer. Gally’s eyes glazed over, then refocused. He glared at Thomas. “You put us in here?”

“Naw man, Paige wanted to put you in there. I just…helped.” I snapped my head around to him, shocked. “Yes,” he said to me, “Teresa and I…designed this.”

“If we’re not in the shucking Glade, then where are we?” Gally asked.

“In a room,” I offered. “The Maze is just simulated in our heads, Gal. I’m not really dead.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I shut my eyes. “Shuck, Gally, forget I said that.”

“You’re dead?!” he fumed. 

“No, Gal, I’m right here! I just shucking told you, ya slinthead, I’m _not_ dead! It’s just a variable!” I rapped my knuckles on his forehead. “Listen, Gal, you’re gonna wake up in the Glade. You’re gonna think this was just a dream from the Changing. But it was real. This is more real than the Glade, and more real than whatever comes next. Just know, Gal, you don’t have to be afraid of coming back here. Okay, Cap? I’ll be waiting right here for you when you wake up.”

He nodded shakily. “You mean…you’re not coming back too?”

“I, um. Gal, to everyone in the Glade…I’m dead. With this just being a simulator, thanks to Thomas here, I’m fine, but to the Gladers, I’m gone. None of you will see me unless you wake up, but I’ll always be watching you.” 

“Time to put him back under,” Thomas told me. He typed up some stuff, but didn’t hit ‘enter.’

“Girlie, I don’t understand…why did you wake up?” Gally begged to know.

Teresa shook her head. I smiled sadly and said, “You’ll find out, I suppose. Just know, it wasn’t anybody’s fault. It was just a variable,” I choked. Rat-face, as Thomas had called him, had ended my Glade simulated life for a shucking variable. “Just, Gally…keep an eye on Newt for me?”

He nodded once before his eyes closed. Thomas entered the code, and flashes of past events danced across the screen, and in Gally’s tortured mind. Images of me were there, soon overtaken by images of Thomas, Thomas and a computer screen, and boys drowning in vats of water.

 

**—**

 

I watched the screen the rest of the day.

Teresa even let me replay some of the events I had missed. Also, she let me have a few minutes with Newt’s sleeping body. He looked the same, mostly. Broad shoulders, square jaw, blond hair. Not as tan, though. Definitely not as tan. And no toned muscles. But still Newt. I was not allowed to touch him, but I spoke to him in a whisper, telling him how sorry I was that I couldn’t say goodbye. When I started to cry, I left and Teresa brought me to a room with comfy chairs and some food, and I watched the Glade.

Nick had caught me, right after the Griever stabbed me through the chest. I had fallen right into his arms, and he, and the other boys there, could only stare, dumbstruck, as the Griever’s arm disappeared into the dark. There was no hope for me, and they all knew it.    

No one said anything. A few of them let tears roll down their cheeks, but everything had just been so sudden that they were just trying to wrap their heads around what had happened. Gally was stung mid-day, right outside the Glade, and I was dead. 

To them.

When Nick finally started sobbing, I wanted to look away. I do not know how long it took them to gather their wits, but Alby was the first to shake off the shock. “How’re we gonna tell Newt?” he asked no one in particular. 

No one had an answer. Ben sat down and put his head in his knees. He made no sound, but his shoulders were shaking. Ernie, a bagger, finally came ‘round and put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Nick, man. I can take her to her garden, if you want.”

Nick wiped his eyes. “I’ll help you.” He gingerly scooped me up in his arms, which really was doing the job for Ernie, not helping, but whatever. He laid me down by the lavender, then put a hand on my forehead. “Kiddo…Kiddo I am so, so sorry.” 

Ernie just looked sad. Alby walked over, mentioned he was checking on Gally, then disappeared. 

Nothing else really happened for a while, so I focused on Gally. He was looking even more green than before, and Clint kept dabbing his head with a wet cloth. Jeff was rummaging through supplies, probably organizing the variety of painkillers. I realized that Clint had taken Gally away, Adam had been helping, before I was killed, and Jeff, Jeff was not even there. 

Alby walked in, more somber than I had ever seen him. He sat down on a cot across from Gally yet said nothing. 

“Fever’s bad,” Clint said, “but nothing not normal, for this. He should be fine. Well, as fine as he can be after the Changing.”

“Jo’s dead,” Alby informed him flatly. 

Clint’s hand froze. Jeff stopped sorting. Really, Alby? I thought. So blunt?

“What do you mean?” Clint’s voice was so hollow.

“Dead. Griever stabbed her clean though the chest. Don’t bother checking her,” he grunted when Jeff began to get up, “She’s gone. Way gone.”

“But…” Jeff trailed off. He looked like he was about to cry. “She can’t be.”

“Well, she is. Just…just focus on getting Gally through the Changing.”

My focus shifted to the Maze, where Newt and Minho were running back. “Something feels wrong,” Newt said. I gasped. He must have heard—or at least sensed—when I was talking to him. Shuck, now I made him worried, and he didn’t even know…

“I’m so sorry, Newt,” I sobbed, digging my fingers into the couch.

When he and Minho got to the Doors, Nick was there waiting.

“Hey Nick,” Minho started, “what’s…Nick? What’s…what’s wrong?”

Nick’s eyes were red. So was his shirt. He jerked his head in a ‘follow me’ gesture, then walked the two Runners over to the lavender. He said nothing as they approached, but the minute I saw Newt see my bloody, dead body, I knew, despite my lack of memories, that I had never seen anyone, _anyone_ ever look so heartbroken. 

Newt fell to his knees next to me, his eyes taking in my wound and my unblinking, lifeless eyes all at once. “Jo?” he whispered, taking my cold, limp hand in his. 

“Griever,” Nick finally told them. “Gally’s been Stung. She was right at the entrance, just steps away from the grass, and then…then it just stabbed her. She just _fell_.” Anyone could see, from the blood on his shirt, that Nick had caught me. “She thought she heard you, Newt. Thought she heard you calling her name.”

Minho looked up sharply. “When?”

“Bout an hour ago, now.”

“Shucking hell,” Minho muttered. “He was calling at her. Right when he checked the clock, to see if it was time to come back. Thought he heard some other people, saying she wasn’t ready for something. Then, bout ten minutes ago, he started freaking out, thought he heard her apologizing for something.” 

Newt was silent. Uncomprehending. 

Nick rubbed his face. “She wanted to say goodbye.”

Newt’s eyes overflowed with tears, and he gently, more gently than I had seen anyone do anything, took me into his arms. He rested my limp head against his shoulder. At first, he set his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes, but their lifelessness caused him to start sobbing. Still, he kept his forehead to mine, and just sat with me there for hours, wiping away the tears that fell to my cheeks with his thumbs, as if they were my tears and not his. He only moved when the Doors opened again in the morning, when Ernie said it was time.

Time to bury me. 

Newt gently removed the leather wristband he had made me. After a moment of hesitation, he tore off my med-bag, too, which was still hanging across my body, and my machete. He wrapped the leather around his own wrist, his right wrist, where it just covered the scar of my name, then took my bag and weapon into his arms. 

The baggers did a nice job with my grave. I did not watch them cover me with dirt, but I watched when Jackson, my ginger-haired, second newbie, hammered in the cross and laid down the flowers. 

I watched as Clint scratched off my name.

 

— 

 

I kept an eye on Gally as he went through the Changing, but otherwise most of my time was spent adjusting to my new life in W.IC.K.E.D.’s compounds. I wore boring white clothes and walked down boring white hallways. There were guards and doctors all around, always. Teresa did her best to fill me in on everything. What she did not tell me, Aidan did, because he had more free time than she did. We talked about his death, and how sorry I was about it, and how he actually got swallowed up by the Griever painlessly once the Doors had closed. 

“It was my own fault,” he admitted. “I saw a Griever disappear over the Cliff. Went back to spy on it.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “And…”

He shrugged. “Didn’t make it back, did I? But, I found out after I woke up, there’s a Griever Hole where it disappeared to.”

That was news. I looked into it.

Thomas was a good source of information, too. He also became a friend, and I was glad. In fact, I even developed a nickname for him. Teresa always called him ‘Tom,’ but I could tell that he didn’t like ‘Thomas’ as much, since W.I.C.K.E.D gave him that name. He knew it wasn’t his real one. To accommodate, I called him Tommy. He seemed to like it more than Thomas, but of course, owing to his deep more-than-friendship with Teresa, he liked ‘Tom’ better. 

I could tell that watching the Trials was hurting him, but he had designed them, and he was glad that at least it all wasn't real. Teresa told me of her plot to abort the Final Candidate’s fatal surgery, and I swore to help her in her mission. 

One of the doctors there, Dr. Peterson, was a younger man than the others—maybe thirty. He was tall, with caramel-colored skin and dark, curly brown hair. He had a hooked nose and thin, dark eyes that always seemed to watch me closely. He explained to me what I would be doing for W.I.C.K.E.D. For now, I was allowed time to watch the Simulators, and they would analyze my brain patterns. I was unhappy about this, but Teresa warned me not to object, so I didn’t. Instead, I went along with it, letting myself be guided to small rooms with screens and couches, where I took notes on what happened, or just simply watched. I knew I was watched, though, since I was being analyzed for my responses to seeing what happened in the Simulated Maze once I had left it.

It was cruel. Peterson tried to make things easier on me, but I knew in the end, he just wanted results. In addition to those duties, once a week, we had blood drawn from us. It was used as a temporary cure for non-immunes. I did not like it, necessarily, but I was glad to be of help to non-immunes. Giving blood was more civilized than these trials, at least.

The W.I.C.K.E.D. facility was complex. There were about four stories above ground, and two beneath. Each story was build for a separate purpose. I was on the third, where the Group A Simulator room was based. There was a cafeteria on the first level, but on my level, there was a common area with simple foods available. That room had high tables and tall chairs, as well as a few couches and coffee tables. Everything was modern and industrial, and had little warmth or feeling. 

The multiple hallways extending from that common room had different uses as well. First, there were small alcoves within the Simulator Room, like the one Gally was in during the Changing. Across from that room were computer rooms to monitor the events. Then, down the hall, were small rooms with large screens, for kids like me to watch and take notes on the events from. Teresa and Tommy had more specific rooms, with computers to interfere with the events. Mine just had a screen, a table, and a couch to watch from, then a small desk on the side. I was stuck there most of the day. 

I had a bedroom near Teresa down the hall. I was around the corner from her, and across the hall from Aidan and some other Gladers who had woken up before I arrived in the Glade. One was named George, and he had been the first leader. I learned that he was the first to get Stung, and Alby had been forced to kill him when he attacked Nick.

A variable. 

My bedroom was a plain room, with a cot by the wall, a desk, and a shower and bathroom. Nothing fancy, just cold and white. Like the hallways, like the walls, like our clothes. Our boring, boring white shirts and pants. 

Teresa and Tom were in a hall by their own, around that corner. It was the same for Rachel and Aris, the lead observers for Group B, on the level beneath ours, where Group B was centered. 

Far beneath us was the actual Maze, built but not used, except for filming. The workers filmed part so the Glade to put into the Simulator. Still, the computer-Simulated Maze was easier to work with than the actual one, and I was glad Tommy had come up with the idea to use it.

In my room, I had my screen divided into multiple ones, so I could watch multiple scenes at once. I always had one at the Med-jack room, one in the Council Room, and one constantly following the Runners in the Maze. Those scenes often took up a quarter of the wall-sized screen, dividing smaller and smaller so I could see each pair of Runners. Always, there were beetle blade cameras following Newt, who was my main focus, Nick, Clint, Jeff, Gally, and Minho. As per instructions, I took notes on what seemed different about them since my ‘death,’ and specifically what was different about Newt. He seemed like he was a more important figure in the Maze Trials, and I worried about what my work was being used for.

However, whenever I questioned my tasks, I was ignored. Finally, Peterson responded, telling me that the next time I objected to spying on my friends, he would send in a new variable that would result in damage to the Glade. When I demanded what, he threatened another fire, one that would burn the boys. 

I stopped objecting, though I made it a point to make mental notes about everything I handed over. I remembered the information I supplied, but because I did not know what it was used for, it was hard to figure out how I was influencing anything. Teresa kept telling me to do as I was told, and not to lie or alter anything. When I demanded the truth, she only told me that what I was doing was a great help, and that since Newt was, in the Simulator, not immune, he would not be used as the Final Candidate, and so nothing I did would ever really harm him.

It was not a great comfort. 

Sometimes I watched Group B with Aris Jones and his friend Rachel, a girl with dark skin and tightly curled dark hair. They both seemed to know me, and Rachel and I were fast friends. I tried to also spend meals with other girls, including a girl named Beth, but she went in the Maze soon after I woke up. She was nice, though, with fair skin, long brown hair like mine, and observant hazel eyes. She did not like the doctors, and she did not like the Maze. Another girl, who listened intently to my relationship with Newt, Miyoko, also went into the Group B Maze soon after I woke up. Meals were the only time I was allowed with the girls, however. Apparently my brain patterns were more interesting when I was isolated.

Then, there were the other kids from Group A who were still waiting to enter the Maze. I spent more time with them. One little boy, about eleven, reminded me of a little chipmunk. Chuck, it was, and he was a bit annoying at times, but still adorable. I was sad, thinking of him having to enter the Maze, but none of them were allowed to watch the screens before they went in, so I was happy he did not have to worry about it just yet. However, as Teresa informed me, he would be going in in just a few months. I spent as much time with him as I could, and took to calling him Chuckie.

I wondered where the other Gladers were, the one’s who’d ‘died’ but I hadn’t seen here. Like Justin. I never knew what happened to Justin, but Teresa told me not to worry about it. I asked about Alfred with the same response. Then, one day, I saw a clip of his suicide, and Teresa gave in.

That night she confessed why some of the ‘dead’ Gladers were not in the compound. “We’re all immune, but if we really just end up going to the paradise, Chancellor Page only wants the best. Since we are not affected by the Flare, we’re already the fittest, but she wants to eliminate anyone who would threaten the rebirth of the human race.”

I was shocked. “So…”

“Kills them. Some of them just never wake up, some get put down a day or so after. Justin? He’s gone. Never woke up.”

“What about me?”

“Your death was a variable. Lots of the deaths are variables, so a lot of you will live. Just, a few…well, Chancellor Page decided they weren’t important.”

I had a hard time falling asleep that night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE YOU GO MY LOVLIES HERE IS HOW THINGS WILL BE FIXED YOU SEE YOU SEE IT IS A SIMULATOR YOU ARE VERY WELCOME 
> 
>  
> 
> Also I hope you actually do like the idea. I get very excited sometimes. 
> 
> Oh, and sorry, about the whole, you know, ‘Jo’s Death’ thing, but if I’m keeping canon, she had to be booted out of the Glade. My story frames the books, so all of the book stuff is legit. I made my story around the books, so nothing in there is altered past what Thomas, the narrator, knows. 
> 
> It’s a Simulator, so have no fear. AND THEY'RE ALL IMMUNE SO HA.
> 
> ;) ;) ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Remember in CH 38 (Trapped) Jo thought she saw Newt, in white, by her side? Haha yup. She was kind-of waking. She saw the Simulator Room. The funny feelings in her forehead? Chip.
> 
> I would love to hear from you in the comments!!!


	44. Jumped Right Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has a hard time coping with Jo's death. After all, she was not only his best friend, but the love of his life. But what will Newt do when things get too heavy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Warning: Attempted Suicide
> 
> Warning: This may hurt 
> 
> Song References: The Scientist and A Sky Full of Stars. Disclaimer: All rights go to Coldplay.

 

 

 

Gally was not the same after the Changing. He woke up with some of the memories Tommy had sent him, and it was Tommy who stood out the most. He remembered me, and was really confused when Nick came in and told him I was dead. “I shucking _saw_ her. She shucking _talked_ to me.”

I knew he was angry. He felt guilty, for sure, and blamed my death on himself. Which made him even angrier. Deep down, he was sad, maybe even depressed from his guilt, but anger covered it up. Anger was his bodyguard, and he hid behind it often. Which hurt me even more. His angry expression became permanent, so his mouth was alway set in a frown, and his eyebrows were always pointed sharply downwards. But Gally made sure to keep an eye on Newt, and despite his extremely short temper, he tried to keep himself calm when around him.

Newt had just got worse and worse. I was gone, Gally was angry, Nick was negative. Even Minho had lost the will to be sassy. Still, Newt had taken my ‘death’ the hardest, which was to be expected. I was closest to him. I loved him.

After a particularly bad week, Newt woke up in the middle of the night, shaking, shouting. He was breathing heavy, drenched in cold sweat, and I even felt guilty for watching him through the eyes of the beetle blade. I had never invaded the privacy of our—his—room before, not with these robot cameras, but some worry was tugging at me tonight. 

I wished I were with him.

I remember after I woke up from my mini-Changing, how much I missed him when I was in the nightmares. How I so was glad to be with him, not watching through a beetle blade. _“If I could only see you through a beetle blade…I don’t know how I could live,_ ” I’d told him. And here I was. Doing just that.

Ironic.

He woke up with a start. Immediately he checked my mattress, as if to check if I was there. When I was not, he got up and made his way to the Med-jack room, muttering to himself, telling himself I was there, that I was okay. Slowly, he pushed open the door, but upon discovering I was not in it, he slid down the doorframe, head in his hands. He lost all hope when he noticed my leather wristband around his wrist. He sat there for a while before the door across from him opened and Alby came out. That day, Gally had pointed out to both Nick and Alby that Newt had seemed especially depressed, and both leaders were taking turns staying up, in case Newt needed a friend. Alby had even told them both my last requests—to take care of Newt.

“Hey, man.” He sat with Newt most of the night, just sat there. Newt fiddled with the wristband and unveiled the clock face on it. Seeing it, unmoving, made his eyes fill with tears when he realized what it meant.

The clock was stopped at 2:50. The time he chose for our ‘clock’ constellation to be stopped at—the time he always checked his watch, so he could come back.

So he could come back to me.

It was also the exact time I had been ‘stabbed’ by the Griever, I recalled from the videos. The clock was frozen in time, since—as I noticed by zooming in—a dent on the side had broken it.

Alby saw what Newt was crying over and his face fell when he understood. “Newt, man…it must’ve broken when she…when she…fell.”

Newt nodded though his silent sobbing. “She never saw a minute past this,” he moaned, staring at the hands of the clock.

Alby just nodded, and they both sat there in silence the rest of the night, before they both fell asleep. 

That day, Nick made them both take breaks, napping and resting in the shade. He’d made sure to thank Gally as well. It seemed to put the Keeper of the Builders in better spirits, and Ben noticed that, glad his friend and Keeper was feeling more like himself.

Alby was mostly there to comfort Newt. “Is there any way I can help you?”

Newt was leaned up against a tree, staring at the walls. Staring at where my name was crossed out. Occasionally his eyes would dart up to the top of the wall, contemplating something, before falling back down. “I don’t know, mate. This is all just so hard. The bloody Maze. The bloody Creators. Gally. Jo.”

“I’m going Running with you soon,” Alby promised. “I miss it. Need to get an escape from the Glade for a couple hours. Good that?”

“Good that,” Newt nodded. His face grew pensive, and I was wondering what was going on in his head when I noticed that his eyes had fixed themselves on the ivy growing on the walls. 

 

—

 

Newt slept outside that night, looking up at the empty sky, unable to imagine our constellations. The next morning was his day off from Running. He seemed extra thoughtful today. He greeted Ben and Frypan at breakfast, and made sure to say talk to Nick as well. 

“Sorry I been so off, mate,” he told our leader. 

Nick shook his head. “We all have been, Newt.”

Newt gave a special salute to Minho and Stephen when they went out Running. He spent the rest of the morning talking with other Gladers, and in the afternoon, he found himself in the Deadheads. He sat there for at least a half hour, looking over the graves.

He spoke to mine.

Gally had built a bench next to it, never mentioning that it was him. It just appeared one day, and Newt noticed, but he never asked who had made it. Gally never looked for credit. I wondered if he did it, in a way, to appease his guilt. He and Newt did not talk much, but I knew he always wanted to apologize for Newt, for going into the Maze the day I ‘died.’

Newt’s face became determined as I watched, worried about what he was thinking about. He got up and ran into the Maze, without a Running partner. Other Gladers noticed him, but he ignored them.

“Newt?” I asked, knowing he could not hear me. “Newt, what are you doing?”

Luckily, Gally noticed Newt leaving. He told Alby, and Alby, frantic, sprinted into to the Maze after his friend.

I had one camera on Alby, one in the Glade, and one—the biggest part of my screen—focused on Newt. I did not like that he was alone. You were not supposed to go into the Maze alone, even if you were Keeper of the Runners! 

For some reason, Newt kept checking his watch, the one that worked, not the one of mine. This made me even more nervous, because for some reason, I did not think he was timing himself. Newt was off today, I could sense it. He could not be alone. He needed someone with him.

“Alby, ya slinthead, stay with him!” I shouted at the screen, as Alby took a different turn than Newt had. Once he made sure he was alone, Newt began sprinting. Sprinting far away, not even noticing where he was going. He only ever moved to glance at the time.

“What are you doing?” I muttered. He looked half-mad, his eyes were wild, as if he was setting some horrible plan into motion. After a few minutes of hard running, he stopped. He was at the base of a wall, one with ivy stretching halfway up to the top.

He consulted his watch, closed his eyes a moment, then took a breath and started climbing.

“Newt?” I asked, confused. “Newt what are you doing?” I repeated. 

He looked so determined, so intent on reaching the top of those walls. Almost like he was aiming to jump right off…

“NEWT!” I screamed. I burst out of my viewing room and raced for the room where all the boys were kept in their trances. Peterson saw me running through the hallway and caught me up in his arms, holding me back before I reached the door. I could see them through the windows, and I saw Newt on the screen. “Can’t go in there, Joan. Can’t interrupt the Trials.”

“Let me in there!” I screeched. “Look at him, he needs me! Let me back in!” I scratched at Peterson, but he was stronger. So much stronger. “You don’t understand, he’s gonna jump!”

“He’ll be fine,” Peterson said firmly. “I can’t let you in there with the other test subjects.”

I pounded my fists at him. _Test subjects._ The words rang in my ears. As if we were lab rats. Lab. Rats. Even now, I was sure that even animal testing was in no way humane. Not if it was like this. And this? This was the last straw. “THEY’RE JUST KIDS!” I screamed.

Newt was a third of the way up the wall. He was muttering. I caught my name somewhere in there, along with “sorry”s and “wish”es. 

Tears were streaming down my face. I didn’t care if it was all in his head, I didn’t want him to throw his life away. “NO! YOU LET ME IN YOU LET ME STOP HIM!”

“I cannot let you jeopardize the trials. If you go in there, you could unintentionally interrupt the other subjects. Besides, we don’t interfere with free will.”

“PLEASE!”

“What’s going on?” Tommy came racing around the corner. When he saw the screen, he stopped dead in his tracks. “No, no, Newt?”

“Tommy let me stop him!” Newt was farther up now. He kept looking down, as if judging how much higher he needed to go. “Please, Tommy! _Please,_ let me stop him!”

Teresa was there suddenly, screaming at Peterson. I reached for her, I reached for Newt, I reached for the door. If only I could get in that door, get in that room, I could whisper to him, whisper to his sleeping body and tell him not to jump. If he only heard my voice in his ear, he wouldn’t jump. I could stop him. 

Newt looked right at the camera, somehow. I did not know if there was a beetle blade or not, but he knew it was a camera. “I don’t know who you people are,” he told the camera, “but I hope you’re happy. I hope you get a real buggin’ kick our of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell.”

“Newt!” I shrieked.

“Peterson,” Teresa pleaded, “she won’t wake him up, that’d be the same as killing him, she just wants to talk!” Teresa defended. I knew she would help me. “Peterson, he’ll die in the simulator otherwise! He’s no use to us once he’s out of the Maze Trials. Not like he is now.”

“Then we make sure he doesn’t ‘die,’” Peterson growled. He threw me against the wall like a sac of flour, then rushed to the computer screen just inside of the Simulator Room. Quickly he typed in some codes, something to do with Newt. I immediately jumped up and rushed him, since the door was wide open, but a man in white held me back.

Janson.

“Please calm yourself, Joan. Peterson is just altering the codes in Mr. Newton’s brain. He will not ‘die’ today. No, we will simply factor in another variable.”

“Another variable?” I shouted. Teresa was shouting at Peterson too, telling him to stop, to just hold on, but he wasn’t listening. He hit “enter” and looked up at the screen with some sick smile stretching across his face. 

Newt stopped climbing now. He was halfway up those walls and he had stopped climbing. He glared once more at the camera. “This is on you,” he growled. “You killed her. And you’re not gonna hurt me any longer. Whatever you’re using us for, I’m done.” Then, his gaze shifted to his wrists. He uncovered the face of the clock on my wristband, the broken watch, frozen in time at 2:50. He compared it to his working watch. It also said 2:50. They matched, for once, mine and his, and I realized…

“Newt,” I whispered, tears rolling down my face. “Newt.” He wanted the times of our deaths to be the same.

Teresa was holding me now, cradling me, while Tommy stood above us a hand on both of our shoulders. 

I stared at the screen as Newt took in a deep breath, then closed his eyes. “I’m coming, Jo,” he murmured.

He jumped. 

I screamed, watching him helplessly as he plummeted to the ground. 

He landed on his feet.

He crumpled.

He did not move.

 

—

 

“He’s not dead,” Tommy said. “I mean, he didn’t wake up. He’s still in the Maze, he’s gonna make it in there.”

I had quieted down a bit by now. Teresa never stopped holding me, but Tommy had been watching over the screen, typing in codes, trying to get Maze-Newt to wake up from the fall. He woke quickly, only to be greeted with the pain of his injured leg. He held it, moaning, and shouted “I hate you!” to the camera multiple times before he fainted.

Tommy had set a code in Alby’s brain that directed him to where Newt was at, a simple worry variable that sent the Runner sprinting in Newt’s direction. “Alby will think a Griever got him. No one ever has to know what really happened.”

“Newt will know,” I whispered. “Shuck, I hope he’ll be okay. I wish…I wish I were there with him.” 

Janson dragged Tommy off. Later I learned that his memory of that incident was swiped, but he learned about it the next day, watching the screens. Teresa, though, stayed with me. “They’ll take care of him,” Teresa promised. “And then, when all of this is over, you can be there when he wakes up. When they all wake up.”

I just hoped he would find some reason to be happy again before that day came. 

 

—

 

I watched the screen for the rest of the day. 

Alby discovered Newt, just as Tommy planned. He gave a shout and sprinted faster than I had ever seen towards his friend, but Newt was still unconscious. Alby tried shaking him awake, though Newt only moaned. By then I had gotten into the Simulator room. I was sitting next to him, holding his hand, whispering to hold on, as his eyes fluttered open on the screen. Next to me, his brows furrowed, and I knew that somehow, Newt in the Maze could hear me. “Newt, man, come _on_ ,” Alby begged, taking his friend up in his arms. “Come on, I got you, I’ll help you back. It’s your leg. Griever got your shuck leg.”

Newt in the Maze tried to push Alby away. “Leave me,” he moaned. 

“Shuck man, I’m not gonna ditch you,” Alby protested.

“Just go, aright? Leave me the bloody hell alone.”

Alby’s lips parted in hurt. He looked worriedly at Newt’s broken leg, and noticed some leaves stuck to his shoe. When his eyes flickered to the wall of ivy, his breath hitched, and at that moment, he realized that a Griever was not what had gotten to Newt. I saw realization dawn on his face, and I knew he suspected Newt of attempted suicide. “Newt I don’t care what you want right now, you’re coming back to the Glade.” 

“No, Alby, leave me!” Newt growled, but the pain from his injuries finally overtook him, and he fell limp in Alby’s arms. 

It was a struggle, but Alby half carried, half dragged Newt’s limp, barely alive body to the Glade. He managed to get my injured Newt past the Doors just before they closed. Minho was waiting at the entrance, brows furrowed, quite obviously worried out of his mind. Once he saw Newt’s critical condition, he took immediate action.

“Med-jacks!” Minho shouted, and Clint rushed over with his med bag, and immediately they checked Newt for a Sting, but they found nothing of course. 

“This won’t ever heal properly,” Clint muttered to Nick. “Shank’s gonna have to live with a limp.”

Nick appeared and was kneeling on the ground, staring worriedly down at his friend. “At least he’ll live. Alby, what shuck happened?” 

“Griever must’ve got him,” Alby panted. 

I swore at that moment that I owed him the rest of my life for keeping Newt’s secret. 

“I saw it hurrying away when I saw Newt. On the ground, unconscious. Thought he was dead.”

“Griever?” Nick’s eyes bulged. “When did you find him? I mean, it’s near closing but…he looks like he lost a lot of blood already.”

“Let’s get him upstairs,” Clint ordered. Why had I not noticed that Clint was starting to grow some grey hairs? The once-black mess on his head was already turning salt-and-pepper. It was not like that before.

What was happening to my friends? 

Simulator-Newt was unconscious for the rest of the day. I sat with real-Newt the whole time, talking to him, holding his hand, telling him how much I missed him, but how much I wanted him to stay alive. 

Alby was there when he woke up, worried sick. “Shuck it man,” he said, “thought you were a goner.”

Newt immediately shut his eyes in pain. “Bloody leg,” he moaned. Clint, standing by, quickly shot in a painkiller. Once the pain subsided, Newt looked around. He was visibly confused when he realized he was in the Med-jack hut. “What…?” he trailed off. I could see in his eyes that he was wondering why he was alive. Then, he got angry. “What the bloody hell am I doing in here?” he growled. 

“Calm down, man. You got hurt. Griever, it got your leg in the Maze. I found you, I brought you back. Weren't stung, but…man, you’re gonna have to stay off your leg for a while.”

Newt closed his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. I could see the pain on his face, not just from his fall, but from his emotions. He was hurting. I was hurting for him.Clint, being observant, thought that the two friends needed some time alone. He mentioned something about fetching some food, then he, too, disappeared.

“Newt, man…” Alby began.

“You shouldn’t have bloody brought me back!” Newt snapped. 

“You should’t have jumped!” Alby snarled in a whisper. They glared at each other for what seemed like hours. Finally, Alby pushed it. “What would _she_ think?”

Newt was shocked. His face screwed up in a mix of emotions. His eyes had never been so angry as when he spoke to Alby at that moment. 

“Get. Out.”

Alby complied, albeit reluctantly. He stopped at the door before exiting, turning to glance at his broken friend. “Newt,” he said softly, “It’s between us.”

 

—

 

My heart broke, seeing Newt cry.

At first, he was just angry, angry at me, angry at Alby, angry at the Creators. He swore at us all, staring up at the wall. Then, tears overflowed from his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, and streamed down the sides of his face. That’s when he started sobbing. Really sobbing. His chest was heaving, his shoulders were shaking. He needed me. 

And I was not there for him.

Soon, I was sobbing right along with him.

Once he cried himself to sleep, Teresa found me, like she’d done every day since Newt’s attempted suicide. Gently she led me away, to our room, to my bed, where she held me until I too, cried myself to sleep, like I’d done every day since Newt jumped.

Gradually, he got better. When Alby came to see him again, they just sat there together for hours.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Newt said finally. “I’m…I’ll be fine. I just…I just…”

“I know.” They were quiet for some time, until Alby cautiously told Newt, “She…she wanted me to take care of you. She made me promise.”

Newt looked up sharply. “You said…You said she died instantly.”

Alby looked at his hands. “She knew something was wrong before that. Hearing those voices. She got real worried. Made me promise.”

A tear ran down Newt’s cheek, and he pulled aside the wristband to reveal the scar bearing my name. “I just…I wish I’d been there. I wish…I wish it was me who was dead, not her.” He put his head in his hands, his fingers pulling on his golden locks. “Bloody hell, I wish it was me. I wish she was alive.”

“I know,” Alby said again. They did not speak again that night, just sat. I was thankful that Alby was there for Newt, since I could not be. I wished I was, I wished I was with him, I wished I could save him. But I could not. And it weighed on me every day.

 

—

 

I got better.

Newt developed a limp, but I was just glad he was alive. His friends were all very supportive of him as he recovered, and Nick gave him plenty of tasks. He started mapping the Maze more intensely, since he couldn’t run anymore. One day, Minho came in after a day of running and Newt made him stop mapping.

“Minho,” he told the other boy, “I want you to take over as Keeper of the Runners.”

Minho’s eyes bulged. “What? No! Shuck, Newt,” he protested, but Newt cut him off.

“Minho, mate, I can’t run anymore. Not with this buggin' leg. No sense in me being keeper. I’ll still be in here, mapping, helping out, or I’ll be helping Zart in his gardens, and Nick’s having me stay on for Gatherings, but he and I have talked, and we’ve agreed that you’re better qualified for the position now.”

“But—”

“No bloody buts! I’ve got a buggin’ limp! I need you to do this for me, Minho. I need you to replace me.”

Minho’s eyes just looked sad. “Newt, you need to be Keeper. Remember what you told me? If you get lazy, you get sad, and…Newt I know it’s been a hard few months…”

Newt shut his eyes. “Blimey Minho I’m not jumping off the bloody Cliff, I’m just stepping down from being a Keeper.” He looked sideways at his friend and sighed. “At least think about it, will ya?”

Minho was steadfastly defiant. However, the pleading look on Newt’s face softened his scowl ever so slightly. “Fine,” he spat out. “I’ll think about it. Hopefully you’ll get some sense knocked into you in the meantime. Go fight Gally or something, would you?” With a frustrated sigh, he stormed out, leaving my Newt alone in the map room, considering how close he may have been to letting on what really happened to his leg.

 

—

 

Alby found Newt sitting alone, staring at my name on the wall again that night. He had been there for a good while now, telling my why he did what he did. “I wanted to see you again,” he breathed softly. “I wanted to find you, tell you how much I love you, tell you how lovely you are. Tell you how much I need you. I wish…I wish we could go back to the start, when we first met, and fall in love all over again.”

I felt my heart swell. I did not want to take notes on his behavior. Scientific research, the work for the cure, it was nothing compared to what he was saying. His words were from his heart, and that was what mattered to me.

“I didn’t expect this to be easy, love,” he continued. “But…I didn’t think it would be this hard. Shuck, when I look at our stars, I just…I see you. I want to be with you, I want to die in your arms, I want to…” He sighed, then fell quiet for another good while.

I felt my heart tear apart, but I didn’t care. It was his to tear. It was his from the start.

When Alby came up to Newt, he just sat down next to him and was silent for a good hour as they both contemplated the mysteries of their lives. “Newt, promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Listen, Newt, I know you’ve been upset. You’ve always hated this life, and you’re hurting bad because of Jo, but—no listen, listen,” he pressed when Newt tired to interrupt. “Newt I know things have happened. I don’t need you to tell me anything—I don’t. I don’t need you to tell me how guilty you feel that you weren’t here when she died, I don’t need you to tell me why you want Minho to be Keeper, hell, I don’t even need you to tell me what the shuck was going through your head when you gave yourself that limp.”

Newt snapped his head up. He opened his mouth to speak, but Alby cut him off. “No. I don’t need you to tell me. You can keep that. But, what I do need, is for you to promise me something. Promise me, that no matter how bad this life gets, if I die, if you lose that whole shucking leg, hell, even if we never find our way out of here and you start going shucking insane, I want you to promise that you won’t kill yourself. Get someone else to do it. Not you. Okay? For me? For Jo?”

Newt’s eyes glistened over. It was as if he could not believe that Alby’d figured it out, or that he was not mad, or maybe he was just so upset, but Newt was inhumanly quiet. As if this memory was being locked in his mind forever, as a fail-safe, just in case. 

“Promise me, Newt. As my friend.”

Newt let his eyes close, and the back of his head rested on the tree, reminding me of the nights we’d sat there, staring at names, and the nights _he’d_ sat there, staring at just mine. 

“Promise.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if that hurt. It hurt me too. The, um…the promise…and the ‘fail-safe’ part…anyone who’s read Death sure should get it…I wanted to give an explanation…
> 
> Hey it’s just a simulator, remember? He's fine. We’re all fine. We’ll get through this.
> 
> But yeah….the promise explains that heartbreaking note in TDC, the events on page 250…and Jo’s pleading…
> 
> Sorry (not sorry) about the ‘time.’ I was thinking of page 382, as is on Fever Code, but…nah. That wouldn't work on a clock, and besides, that’s too close to the Doors closing, at 3 or 4. So, 2:50 for page 250.
> 
> Talk to me in the comments!
> 
> Yes I cried.


	45. Decisions and New Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo and Newt both recover, in their respective homes. What new jobs will they take on, or will they both take the same one-respectively?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> warning: cutting

 

After that night, Newt seemed to recover more fully. When he talked to the stars, to the Wall of Names, or to my grave, he was more at peace. He was not really sure what to do with himself at times, other than try to map the Maze. Finally, one day, Alby and Nick approached him about it.

“Newt, Minho make a decision yet?”

Newt shook his head angrily. He scribbled on a sheet of paper, trying to map the Maze backwards according to drawings. “I think I want to build a simulator,” he announced.

My breath hitched at the word.

“Like, a miniature maze, here on the table.”

I let out my breath.

“Newt?”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“Newt, your head’s getting jacked up, being in here all day,” Nick told him. “You need to get out of here more.”

“What the bloody hell do you want me to do then?” he asked in a bored tone. It was not harsh. Newt was done being harsh. He was frustrated from the map, and he was frustrated with feeling useless.

“Well, I’ve got a lot to do, being leader here and all. Greenie’s are getting harder to deal with, since Jo’s not here to help ‘em out. That was her job, she was good at it. Alby’s not, we all know that.”

Newt put down his pencil and narrowed his eyes at the other two suspiciously. “What are you getting at?”

“We think you should be the one to look after the greenies,” Nick suggested. “You’re good like that. Patient. Calming.”

“Plus,” Alby chuckled, “something about that shuck accent of yours comes across as smoother than our’s.”

Even Newt had to smile at this. We all teased him for his accent, and I had loved it. I still loved it. “What, so now I’m the Mapper and the Greenie patrol?”

“Sure,” Nick grinned. “And, if you don’t mind, you can just help us run the place. More boys coming each month, it gets harder to make sure everything is running smoothly, ya know?”

Newt frowned. “You lost me there.” 

“Help us run the place,” Alby explained. “Kinda like a, a third-in-command.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A _third_ -in-command? Not sure if that counts as a title, there, shank. Just keep me as Mapmaker and official bloody babysitter or whatever. I’ll help you out if you need it, but ‘third-in-command’ won’t be any use.” He turned back to the maps. “Let me know when you need me. Till then, I’m going to start on the bloody miniatures.”

Nick shared a satisfied look with Alby. “Good that, shank.” He gave the blonde boy one last look, then left the map room, which left Alby and Newt alone. Newt started measuring the length of the miniatures he used as the outside wall of the Maze, Section 7 at least.

Alby turned pensive, eying Newt cautiously. “Be good for you, Newt,” Alby told him at last, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Helping the Greenies. Being our…Minder.” 

Newt froze. Alby made his way over to him, and his voice went quieter. “I think she’d like it.”

Newt set down the ruler. “Yeah?” he asked in a small voice, glancing up at his dark friend with a pleading expression. Almost as if he were grasping at the thought that doing this would be a way to bring me back.

Alby put a hand on Newt’s shoulder. “Yeah. Shucking love it.” 

Newt closed his eyes, as if making peace with himself. “Good that,” he sighed softly. When Alby took his leave, Newt stopped him. “Wait, Alby.”

“Yeah?”

“Just…thank you.”

 

—

 

Minho finally accepted Newt’s offer, and was appointed as Keeper of the Runners. Newt was in charge of the maps. His official position was Keeper of the Maps. His tasks were mapping, keeping an eye on the order in the Runner’s department, and helping the greenies every month, like I had. In his spare time he even started learning as much as he could about the Changing, since he had basically lost Gally to it. After a while, he just got used to doing his own thing, including hanging out in the gardens, helping out wherever help was needed. He tended carefully to my herb garden, in an attempt, it seemed, to hold on to my memory for a bit longer. 

He still spent a lot of time helping draw out maps, designing plans for organization, and basically keeping the Runners together. Keeping the Glade together. He still had his limp, but he had come to accept it as a part of him, now, and a reminder of his promise to his friend. When he sat at the wall, under my name, he no longer seemed as sad. He looked…at peace. As if he had a purpose now. I certainly began to notice how much he tried to take care of everyone, and I decided that that was his new purpose. 

I made a note of that. I termed him, “The Glue that kept the Gladers together.” 

I had grown oddly fond of his limp. It showed he was human, and while I felt a pang of sorrow whenever I saw pain flash across his face, I knew it was the memory, not the injury, that hurt him most. He always wore my wristband, and now that he didn’t wear a Runner’s harness, he took to wearing my Med-bag and my machete.

He was getting through. So was I. I focused less on the lives of the Gladers, and more on what was going on in the W.I.C.K.E.D. compound. Teresa and I worked on our plans to convince Ava to bring us all to the sanctuary. Tommy worked on making sure he was one of the top candidates so that in case we failed, no one but him would die. 

I spent time with Chuckie, as he was preparing to enter the Maze. It would be just a little bit now before he was sent up the Box, and he was nervous. I did my best to comfort him.

In addition to my normal tasks, I was later assigned to be a “Minder” on this side of the Trials for Group A, that is, the boys in my Maze. Since most of them would know me, I could be there whenever they woke up…which I hoped was not an often occurrence. It did not interfere with my job to observe and make notes on my selected Gladers, so I still spent most of my time in my own ‘observation room’ across from the Simulator Room. Its couch and a large monitor screen, that showed up to six scenes at once and almost covered the wall, became home for me. I used the small table to work on, but only used paper for now for my notes—no electronic devices to work on. 

I hated it and loved it at the same time.

I hated that I was forced to watch my friends, to spy on them, to see their pain, but then again, I was glad to see them. I took notes during the day, I spent time with Teresa, Tommy, and Aidan. 

I loved that Newt and I were both "Minders."

I hated knowing that all my time in the Maze was just a Simulation. Because, that meant, as I had realized when I woke up, that that entire experience was a nightmare that I could not have woken myself up from. I was trapped in it. 

The worst part? 

Despite the fact that being trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up, was my worst fear, I was shocked to discover that I would give anything to be back there. With Newt. 

Thomas and Teresa still underwent constant tests, since they were most likely to be the Final Candidates. I was always uncomfortable with the idea of the fatal surgery, but Tommy just focused on making sure it would be him, not any of us, that would have to die if the time came. He made sure Ava knew it too, so that even if and when they went in the Maze, and lost memories, then she could still try to make him the one to undergo the surgery. When Teresa found out that she and Tommy were more and more likely to enter the Maze, she was upset. She told me one night, in tears, that Tommy had made her promise to help him be the Final Candidate, too. 

“What if he dies?” she cried, as I held her.

“We’ll stop it,” I promised. “Aren’t you going to keep you memories, anyways? When you go into the Maze?”

She nodded. “As of now, the plan is for both Tom and I to have our memories, but I’m afraid that Paige will want it to just be me. Then I’ll know the promise and Tom won’t. Jo,” she moaned sadly, “I don’t want to lose him.”

I knew how she felt.

 

—

 

“I wish I remembered more,” I muttered one day, after I was done watching the Simulators. I sat in a common room, a very white, boring, sterile common room, organizing my notes from the day.

“You can get them back, you know,” Teresa said from behind me. I jumped, not realizing she was there. I turned to see her smirking.

“Get what?” I asked, a bit annoyed.

“Your memories.”

I was stunned. “Really? My old name? My family?”

She shrugged. “Sure. But,” she added, “there’s something you may want to see first.”

She turned to leave, then returned shortly with a box. “Come on,” she said, pulling me into my room. It was as bare and white as ever, boring as anything. Still, it was a room. “Here.” She thrust the box into my hands.

I eyed her suspiciously. “What?”

She nodded at the box. “It’s yours. You were the only one to think of requesting a personal box, so there it is. Some stuff, some notes from yourself.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Not some test?”

She shook her head. “The handwriting is yours. You asked me to give it to you if you came out of the Simulator early.” I looked back at the box. It was simple, green, and shut tightly. She patted my shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll leave you some privacy.”

She left, and I was alone with the box.

I removed the top carefully. 

Inside, there was an organized pile of notes, a folded-up envelope, photos I did not recognize, a small journal, and a wire bracelet.

The first envelope was labeled, “When You Wake Up.”

I opened it first.

It was dated and addressed to me, but not in my handwriting.

 

_To my darling girl,_

_No, Jo is not you real name. Joan was never your name, but I know that you were forced to give up the name your mother and I gave you. You told me in your last letter that you had chosen Joan after Joan of Arc, since the girls were given religious names, and I think it’s very nice. Jo, your nickname, is better._

_After you wake up from whatever ‘simulator’ you say you’re going in to, you said that you could get your memories back, since they’d be taken away._

_Don’t._

_Don’t take them back, darling. I love you so much, and that is all you need to know. You had a mother, a father, and a brother. You don’t have to worry about us. You need to worry about your future. Don’t linger on the past, darling, look to what lies ahead._

_I’ve included some photos for you, but that’s all. Don’t try to remember._

_With love,_

_your father_

 

I set the letter down. From my father? Was he alive? Was my mother, my brother, alive?

 _Don’t try to remember,_ he told me.

Was my past that awful?

I found a small note, hidden in the envelope, in my handwriting.

 _Do what he says,_ it said. _Don’t take them back._

I gingerly put both papers in the envelope and set them aside. No memories? I sighed, if my pre-Maze self said so, and my father said so, I would at least wait.

What was my life like before WICKED? I knew that the outside world was bad, but…then I remembered Teresa. Sometimes at night, if we both fell asleep in the Common room after going over notes, I would hear her as she cried, whimpering about her mother clawing her eyes out. I decided then that I would do as I was told, and not regain my memories. I would look to the future.

But what was in the rest of the box? There were some notes, written in my handwriting on one side, and on the other side…

“Newt,” I breathed. 

Astonished, I went through all the notes in a flash, and all were like that. They were messages, between Newt and I, snuck, as if seemed, at mealtimes. We were best friends, I gathered, and it was him who made me the wire bracelet, from scraps he was able to gather. There was not much to work with in a place like this, but he still did it.

It reminded me of the leather wristband he made me in the Glade.

I no longer had that, and I no longer had the burn of his name in my skin. Of course, the entire point of that mark was so that I would never be without his name, and here I was…burn-less. At least I knew who Newt was, but I wondered if that would last. 

I put the bracelet on and made a mental note to ask Teresa about a small tattoo. Even if I was not destined to go crazy from the Flare, I did not want to risk another memory swipe and forgetting Newt.

I picked up my old journal and saw that before the Maze, I was friends with Newt, Ben, Nick, George, Harriet, Rachel, and Sonja.

Sonja.

I was taken aback at what my journal told me.

Sonja was Newt’s little sister.

I threw the journal on my bed and sprinted to Rachel’s room, on the floor beneath mine. She was not there, but a guard escorted me to her observation room, also in the level below mine.

“Hey, Jo,” she greeted happily. Noticing my face, she quickly added, “What?”

“Sonja. She’s Newt’s sister,” I accused. 

She grimaced, then nodded sullenly. “Ah…yes.”

“Who knows?”

“Miyoko knew. Before she went in the Simulator, she was set to observe Sonja, that’s why she wanted to know what you could tell her about Newt. And, another thing you should know…Teresa told me. Nick’s your cousin.”

Nick?

I filled with joy. Nick, the one who had always felt like a big brother to me.

“He promised your family he’d take care of you. He and your bother were best friends, before…” She trailed off, knowing I chose not to take back my memories. 

I nodded. “Can I watch her?”

Rachel shook her head. “Only Group A. But,” she added as I sighed in annoyance, “I’ll keep you updated. For now, she just became our co-leader, so that’ll tell you that she’s strong.”

I smiled a bit. “Co-leaders?”

Rachel mirrored my reaction. “Yeah. Works a heck of a lot better than first- and second-in-commands. The girls are doing a lot better than the boys are, so far.”

“Of course they are,” I noted happily, but then remembered that those boys were _my_ boys.

She could tell. “Hey, they only had one of you, let’s not be too hard on them,” she joked.

I laughed. “Right.”

“Back to your observations, don’t you think?” she suggested kindly. I agreed, and left to return to my observation room. Once there, I used the Beetle Blades to do rounds of the Glade. When I came to the forest, a heartbreaking sight greeted me.

Brandon.

He was sitting with a knife, cutting lines across his forearm, crying.

I was not there for him. No one was there for him.

“No,” I moaned, putting my head in my hands. Why was no one looking for him? Thinking of him? Hugging him? 

He did this every night. I watched him throughout the next week, wishing I could get someone to follow him, but Peterson forbade me. I was not supposed to mess with free will. Variables did not do that, only changed the environment (supposedly). 

I did not listen. 

I was able to get Teresa’s help, and, though it was a small action, it was enough. I had Newt glance to the side one day, as the cooks were leaving the kitchens. 

He saw Brandon head to the forest, and something in Newt’s eyes flashed with guilt. He immediately left his seat on a log with Minho and followed Brandon into the trees, until he came across the small boy, cutting his wrists silently.

“No,” Newt said gently, taking the knife from the younger boy’s small hands. “No, Brandon, don’t do that.”

Brandon stared up at Newt with watery eyes. “We’re not a family anymore. The Gladers aren’t a family, we lost Jo.”

Newt nodded sadly and took off his hoodie, pressing the fabric to Brandon’s bleeding skin. “I know. I know, but would she want you doing this?” 

Brandon shook his head.

Newt agreed. “She would not. Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you. I know you depended on Jo, and you depended on me. And I failed you. I wasn't here for you, and now you have,” he looked at the cuts, “lines to prove that. I’m sorry.”

He took Brandon’s small frame into an embrace, holding him and rubbing circles on his back, like he did for me. Brandon sniffled. “I just miss her. She was like a sister. Like a mother.”

Newt shut his eyes tight and bit his lip, Brandon’s words hurting him deeply, I could tell. “I know she was,” he told the young boy. “She was…she was everything.”

“And you loved her,” Brandon cried. “You were like parents to me, and now…now…”

“Now we just have to remember her,” Newt told him, suddenly regaining his composure. He pulled away from Brandon so he could look the young boy in the eyes. “We will remember her, and keep her alive in our memories, in stories, and we need to do as she would have wanted.”

Brandon looked at his wrists. “I just thought of it as…drawing. I thought that if I…drew, I could remember her better.”

Newt was silent for a while, then bit his lip, and moved the watch he had on his wrist. Not my watch, in my wristband, but his own Runner’s watch. Beneath it were a few red lines. “I draw, too,” he told Brandon quietly. 

Brandon snapped his head up and stared in astonishment at Newt’s own cuts. I felt my heart clench in pain, but I kept watching.

Brandon shifted his watery gaze to Newt’s sad eyes. “She wanted me to heal.”  
Newt nodded curtly. “Then we both need to heal.”

“Is it true, Newt?” Brandon asked, almost begging. “You’re our new Minder?”

Newt took his time answering. “I’m not ever going to replace Jo,” he explained mournfully, “but I will be…taking up her duties as Minder. Which means, you can come to me whenever. I want you to trust me, to trust me as you trusted her. So I can help you heal.”

Brandon agreed with a tight hug. “I can help you too, Newt. That was how she did it. She told me how she hurt, and that helped me not feel so bad.”

Newt’s lips parted. “She was hurting?” He sounded so shocked, so pained.

Brandon corrected himself quickly, saying, “She had hurt in the past. With…I can’t remember the names, but the Runner that, um, killed himself, and the Builder who tried to…”

Newt’s gaze softened. “She told you about Alfred and Justin.”

“Those were them. And Aidan.”

Newt ruffled the younger boy’s hair. “Yeah. Those times hurt.”

“But,” Brandon added, “she said that you helped her heal. You were how she kept going.”

“She…” Newt began, but trailed off. A tear silently rolled down his cheeks. “I didn’t know she told you that.”

“Can you tell me some stories about her?” Brandon asked, settling back against the tree trunk. “I think we both need that right now. She used to tell us all stories.”

Newt wiped his tear away. “Of course I can. Did she ever tell you how we met?”

“Nope. I missed the night she told it at dinner, after you got those name scars. Tell me how?”

“Well,” Newt chuckled, “she was a bit clumsy, when she wasn’t focused. So, her first day, she was carrying this big box of clothes, and I went to help her, but she ended up tripping us both, and we found ourselves sprawled on the grass.” Brandon let out a giggle. “Bloody hell, I remember those eyes. She had such beautiful green eyes, and she had this look, a sparkle behind them even though she’d just woke up in this hell, and it was just so…beautiful. And then…”

He told stories throughout the evening, until Brandon fell asleep, and Newt carried the boy back to his hammock.

When Newt got into bed, he had a smile on his face. A nostalgic smile, and a few tears, but a smile nonetheless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wo-hoo! Our two Minders! They reflect each other now, one on the outside of the Trials, one on the inside...


	46. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo does not feel like the scientists are working towards the right goal. What happens when she pushes her luck too far? And, when faces with getting her pre-Maze memories back, what will she choose: to remember, or to forget?
> 
> Meanwhile, the Gladers suffer from her mistakes, and her friends turn against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Reference to lyrics of Shawn Mendes’s song “memories” : Disclaimer: all rights go to Shawn Mendes.

 

 

As I watched Clint look over our notes on the Changing, I began to become curious. What were the Grievers made for? Why did they Sting us? What was the point of the Changing? I was sure it was a variable. But, when I went looking for answers, no one told me. Teresa and Tommy were busy with Janson, and Peterson ignored me. However, I had recently been talking more and more with Ava Paige, since I started giving her my notes directly, so I went to her.

I found her in the common room, looking over Aidan’s notes on some of the Runners. “Chancellor Paige?”

She looked up. “Jo,” she smiled. It was a fake smile, but my specific notes and polite chats recently gave me a bit of an in. “Please, call me Ava.”

I smiled back, feeling slightly devious. “I was wondering. Well, you knew I was a Med-jack.”

She nodded, and gestured to the seat next to her. “Of course. That’s where I put you.”

Internally, her words made me furious. Did that not mess with the ‘free will’ concept? Still, I sat, acting pleasant. “Ava, what is the purpose of the Changing?”

She gave a small laugh. “I thought you had figured that out by now.”

“To…give us some memories?”

“Exactly. Variables, to see how the test subjects react to memories of the world they left behind. It changes who they trust. We like to see just how.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “What about when I was scratched by Carl?”

She patted my hand. “Your dreams showed you how the Gladers reacted to your pain. That gave us insight into their characters, and now it helps you in your observations.”

“My dreams?”

She nodded. “Also, some of the things you saw are…potential variables.”

I started. “Wait, I saw…I saw Alby and Minho in the Maze…at night?” I struggled to remember the exact details.

She nodded. “A variable.”

I felt anger arise in me, but I hid it from Ava. “The Stings. The Changing. How did you come up with it?”

“The Griever Stings cause a reaction similar to what the Flare virus causes. The Changing resembles when someone is infected by the Flare.”

I frowned. “And the Grief Serum?”  
She inclined her head. “Yes. The serum you asked for. Funny how the boys could not come up with that themselves.”

I did not laugh. “It’s a cure for the Sting, right?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

I frowned deeply. “So if you've developed a cure for a Sting, why can’t you just develop that more, to get a cure for the Flare?”

Ava shook her head. “It’s not the same.”

“Well then I guess you’re just screwed, aren’t you?” I huffed. “No brain surgery will prove anything is different with our minds, Ava. It’s physical, not mental.”

She mirrored my frown. “Dismissed,” she glared.

I was startled by her abrupt reaction, but got up from my seat. “Forget the Final Candidate, Chancellor,” I said as I walked to the door. Just before leaving then room, I turned back to her. “The sanctuary is the only way to help us survive.” 

 

—

 

Ava was not there to receive my notes for a week. Peterson was there instead, and warned me that my actions were not wise. I protested, insisting that I was only gathering information, but he did not see my side of things.

He made good on his previous threats, as I found out.

Teresa woke me in the middle of the night, banging on my door. I leapt out of bed to see her in her day clothes. She must have worked late. “Jo,” she panted, worry on her face, “you’d better see this.”

I instantly ran to my observation room, Teresa following at my heels. I got in the door and raced to the screen, where an unnerving sight greeted me.

The Homestead was on fire.

It was the middle of the night in the Simulator as well, and the boys were trying to put the fire out, desperately. Gally was working on breaking some of the pipes from my bathroom, which was closest to the Homestead, and the other boys were forming a water line.

Newt was inside.

I watched helplessly as Alby ran up the stairs, knowing Newt was up there. 

“Newt!” He shouted into the smokey corridor. “Newt get outta here!” 

But Newt didn’t answer. Alby dove deeper into the smoke, coughing and covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, searching for his friend.

“Alby help me!” Newt shouted from his room. Alby burst inside, and there was Newt, struggling to carry a box of clothes and trinkets.

My things.

“Alby I can’t leave them!” His eyes were desperate, watering from the smoke, and he was coughing nonstop. 

The flames leaped up the sides of the Homestead, reaching through the window. The roaring grew louder. Newt bent over double, suffocating, and Alby threw his friend over his shoulder and carried him downstairs and out of the door, just before the doorway caved in.

Clint was on Newt in a second, but Newt took some time to stop coughing. I watched the Simulator until the morning, when the fire was out and everyone was safe. The next day was spent recuperating, but Newt was not greeted with any good news when he inspected our room. That whole side of the Homestead was gone, and it was my fault.

My fault for challenging Ava. I decided I would bite my tongue from now on.

When afternoon came, Alby found Newt outside. 

Newt sat with his knees to his forehead, sobbing quietly. His hands were burned, just like last time. I shook my head, remembering my request: _“You did what you could. But next time, don’t use your hands.”_

Alby approached cautiously and sat down next to him, putting a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, man,” he said softly.

“It’s gone,” Newt cried. “All of it. Every last bloody thing, all burnt up.” 

Alby looked pained. At last he said, “You still got her bag. And the machete, and the wristband.”

“But not her notes, her stories, or her shirts, not her pillow…they smelled like her. And, and on the pages, I could see her handwriting. I could…” he let out a sob. “Bloody hell Alby, what if I forget her?”

“You won’t,” Alby promised. “I won’t let you.”

Newt pulled aside his wristband to see the marking of my name in his skin. “What if one day, all I’m left with is this bloody scar and some faint memory? What then?” He stared at the letters angrily. “I need to write it all down. I need to write down my memories, so I can’t let go.”

 

—

 

Write it down he did. 

He wrote about our mornings together. How we woke up in each others arms, the sound of my footsteps as I got up out of bed and how that sound carried him throughout the day, until he returned to the Glade, how I waved him off every time he left to Run.

He wrote about coming back. He wrote how his favorite time was 2:50, how it meant that if he wasn’t back already, or if he wasn’t currently running, that at 2:50, he’d be in my arms or almost to me.

He wrote about the stories we told each other—or, the stories I told the Gladers—and how I gave each boy a story, and through their names, carved into the stone wall, their stories would also be carved in stone, and thus be eternal. 

He wrote about photo we hung on the wall, the horrid one of me, and he wrote the story of how it was taken. He wrote of my teacup, and how his favorite color was no longer white—but a gentle green, since it was the color of my eyes.

He wrote about our stars, and how we imagined another life for each other. He wrote about our hope for the future, he wrote about our love, he wrote about us.

In the meantime, the Builders and Bricknicks worked on rebuilding the Homestead. One entire side was gone, and when they fixed it, it looked worse. It was ramshackle and lopsided, and did not look in any way safe. I made sure to make a note of that. I began watching the Simulators until late into the night, and often fell asleep on my couch in my viewing room. I did that in the days as well. One afternoon, dreams haunted me until shouting woke me again, and when my eyes opened I was greeted with unwelcome images on the screen. 

Gally was in the Council Room, arguing with Minho. “Builders should go in the Maze if they need ivy!” he shouted, pointing outside.

“Well look what happened last time!” Minho countered, referencing how Gally got Stung. 

Gally’s eyes flashed in rage. “You know I think about that every shucking day!”

“Yeah, well so do I!” Minho retaliated, his hands flying around his head in exasperation. “So does Newt, and he’s never been the shucking same.”

“I’m Keeper of the Builders,” Gally shouted, poking his finger into Minho’s chest angrily. “I decide if we can go into the Maze!”

Minho shoved the Builders away. “I’m Keeper of the Runners, I say who goes in! And _you don’t!”_

Gally shoved Minho again, and soon they were tussling. I winced, not liking the scene, but had to watch anyways. I gasped when Minho shoved Gally into a table, to which Gally shoved Minho into the wall, to which Minho shoved Gally into the newly-constructed cupboards. One of the doors was open, and inside was a battered white teacup.

Newt’s teacup, that I gave him.

Gally reached for it, and Minho held out his arms in protest, saying, “Leave it alone!”  
But Gally didn’t listen. He snatched the teacup in his hand and chucked it at Minho’s head. Minho tried to catch it, but the cup hit his temple before falling to the floor and shattering.

Minho stumbled back from the impact, but his eyes focused not on Gally, but on the white shards.

Gally was breathing heavily.

Minho tore his gaze away from the broken pieces to glare murderously at his former friend. “She gave that to him,” he spat, and Gally’s face fell.

“Min—” he began, but to no use. Minho rushed at him and swung out, landing a solid punch on Gally’s nose.

_Crack._

Gally shrieked and leapt away, cradling his broken nose, but Minho kept pounding him. “You shucking slinthead! You could’ve left it alone! You should have shucking left it alone!”  
Nick burst in, and dragged Minho off. “Slammer!” he barked, and yanked up Gally, to bring him to the Med-jacks.

“Who’s gonna be the one to tell Newt his teacup’s shattered?” Minho spat as he went out the door. “Just after he lost all her other stuff.”

Nick’s eyes searched the room, then fell upon the broken cup. His face dropped, and he sighed sadly, not even saying anything. He went over to the shards and gathered them in his hands carefully before leading Gally to the Med-jack hut. He then went to Newt’s newly rebuilt room, and laid the broken shards on top of the dresser. He stared at them for a while, rubbing his nose.

“Wish you were here, kiddo,” he sighed, then left. 

Clint unhappily worked on Gally’s nose. In the next days, it didn’t heal properly, so it came to look like a slightly deformed potato. Kind of how it was outside of the simulator, I decided. I almost wondered if Minho had been the one to break it before the Maze Trials, but I never asked. I was angry for Minho for losing his temper and injuring Gally, but I was also angry with Gally for starting the fight, and for breaking Newt’s cup.

Newt hardly spoke to Gally after that.

Nick told him about the cup, and the fight, and when Newt raced upstairs to see it, he just slid to the floor. He had no tears left, or he’d just gotten so used to sad things that tears were not even applicable anymore, but he fingered the pieces gingerly. He even tried to put them back together, but there was no glue in the Glade. He collected sap, but it didn’t work that well, either.

Eventually he gave up and just kept the pieces in a small box, along with the sky map we had. It had escaped the fire, since he’d kept it with the Maze Maps. He held onto that just like he held onto the notes of our memories and stories.

One day, he remembered my suggestion to place flowers with the hideous photograph of me, at the base of the stairs. He moved the tin vase of flowers from my bathrooms there, so when anyone walked into the ramshackle, rickety-boarded Homestead, they first saw the flowers and the photo—which, I would forever hold, made me look ancient. 

When the newbies asked about it, everyone stopped telling them about me. In fact, they stopped telling the newbies that there ever had been a girl in the Glade. It was decided at a Gathering that it was too painful, and that no one new needed to know that I had been there, but died.

Really, Nick chose to stop talking about me because it hurt Newt. Since he was the Minder, looking after the newbies, he would be the one to answer the questions about me, but while sometimes it helped him, sometimes it was more painful. Especially when they asked ‘what happened.’ It was also painful for him to get in and out of the Box all of the time, with his limp, so the Gladers started using a rope to get newbies out of Box. I thought that was less personal, but I was no longer someone in charge.

I sighed and made a note of that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, looks like the Glade is getting back to what we knew it as in TMR: ramshackle Homestead, ancient-looking woman in a photo, rope to get Gladers from the Box, and, of course, Gally's broken nose. Anyone who read Fever Code will get the reference.


	47. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo and Aidan are teamed up to watch the Runners. But when Stephen discovers the Griever Hole, things go badly. What will Jo do to help her friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

Aidan and I were teamed together once a week to observe the Runners. Our second week together, we were forced to watch as another variable was enacted. Stephen and Carl split up, and Stephen found the Cliff. I watched curiously as he stared at the Griever hole, as he kicked pebbles to it, and as he watched them disappear. I had learned early after I woke up that the Grievers came and left through a hidden hole in the empty space below the Cliff. His face lit up in understanding, and he sprinted back to the Glade, but was attacked by a Griever. It did not Sting him, but it sank a blade deep in his calf. He shrieked and collapsed, but I knew that there was little chance of him making it back to the Glade in time. He could not Run, and he could not walk on that leg. 

“Aidan?” I whined, eyes locked on Stephen. “Aidan, he…”

Aidan sat back in the couch, putting his hands over his face. “He’s gonna die.”

Stephen tried crawling, but he was losing too much blood. I cursed Janson for making this a variable. Stephen did not deserve this, not after all he'd been through.

“I hate him,” Aidan said from beside me. I knew he was talking about Janson, too.

“He’s not gonna make it,” I said. “He’s not going to be able to get back to the Glade in time, not with that cut.”

Aidan sighed. “Better go get ready to greet him when he wakes up.”

I stood. “Bleeding out won’t be pleasant.”

Aidan rubbed his nose. “Maybe Thomas can help?”

I thought a moment. “What do you mean?”

He looked at me tiredly. “Pull him out? That’s what he did for me, so I wasn’t minced by a Griever the night I was locked in.”

I ran to where Tommy was, in his observation room. “Tommy!” I begged. He turned around in his spin chair. He had been watching Stephen as well, on his much-larger screen. His had computers attached to it. He looked tired, and must have been up since last night. His clothes were wrinkled, and his brown hair was a mess. “Tommy, can you pull Stephen out?”

He glanced back at the screen. “Jo…”

“Please, Tommy? Please. Don’t let him suffer any more than he needs to.”

He grimaced, but nodded. “Once the Doors close. Two minutes. Go wait for him in the Simulator room.”

I hugged him tightly. “Thank you!” I turned to leave, but paused. 

“Jo? What is it?”

I turned back to Tommy. “Can you…can you show me how?” I stepped towards him hesitantly, gazing at his computers. “When you’re gone, I want to know how to do it.”

“You’re the Minder, Jo,” Tommy told me sternly. “Not someone who wakes people up.”

I glared. “And if you go into the Maze?”

He looked back at the screen, pensive. Seconds went by, feeling like forever. “Alright,” he said finally. He checked the time. “Doors are closing.” 

I saw the scene of the North Doors, where Carl, Newt, Minho, Alby, and Nick were waiting. A few other boys were nearby, watching fearfully at the Doors. Others were posted around the other Doors, in case Stephen came in through one of those. Newt was staring unblinking into the dark corridor, not saying a word. Minho was pacing net to him, arms crossed firmly across his chest, his face angry. He was muttering. Nick had his hand on his nose, constantly rubbing it worriedly. Alby stood firm, legs planted, arms also crossed over his chest, biceps bulging. His face was stern.

Tommy pointed at the scene where Stephen was crawling. The injured Runner looked at his watch and sighed defeatedly when he saw the time. As he sighed, the Doors closed.

“Look here,” Tommy said. I stepped next to him, peeking over his shoulder. “It’s simple. On any of the monitor touch-screens or the computers, draw a square over the face of the Glader you want to wake up.”

He drew one over Stephen. “Right-click. You can pick an immediate wake up, or you can delay it. I’ll delay it to give you time to get over there.”

He clicked, and Stephen’s figure froze. A square popped up, with the words “Wake subject?”

Tommy clicked the “yes” option, and “Subject awakened” flashed over Stephen’s face. “That’s it,” Tommy said. “Now, go see him.”

I hugged the brown-haired boy again, then rushed to the Simulator room.

 

—

 

Stephen woke up slowly. He was startled when he looked to his side and saw me there. “Jo?”

“Hello, Stephen,” I greeted with a small smile. I gently removed his headgear that had connected him to the Simulator.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “Shuck. I’m dead.” He opened his eyes again. “If I’m dead, are you an angel? Guiding me to the next life or something?”

I chuckled. “To your next life, yes, but not the afterlife. Come on. Let’s go somewhere else, and I’ll try to explain things.”

“What…what is this place?” He got out of bed slowly, staring at the screens. “Wait,” he muttered, seeing the other boys for the first time.

“Stephen, come on,” I demanded, pulling at his arm. “Now.”

He did as he was told, albeit reluctantly. “What the shuck is going on here?”

“Stephen, come.” I pulled him, with great effort, out of the door, down the hall, and into my own observation room. “Sit,” I commanded, and he did, staring at the screens behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to find one square scene showing his body, in the dark Maze corridors. I wondered if Tommy would let it be found as it was, not minced up by a Griever, in the morning.

“What is this?”

I motioned at the screen. “It was a Simulator, Stephen. Fake. On computers, and screens, and none of it was real. It was just in our heads. The room you just woke up in?”

He gaped, mouth hanging open. “My leg doesn’t hurt.”

I shook my head. “No injuries were real. The room, it connected us all to computers. Your recurring leg injures were not real. They were variables. Aidan’s been analyzing them for the past months.”

“Aidan?”

I nodded. “In fact, I should go get him.” I moved toward the door. “Stay here, okay?”

He nodded absentmindedly, obviously deep in thought. I opened the door, only to reveal Aidan, his hand up to knock. “He in here?” He asked, eyes peeking over my shoulder.

I moved aside to let him in. “Stephen,” I began.

“Aidan!” Stephen leapt up and hugged his old friend. Aidan hugged tightly back. “Aidan, you’re alright!”

“It wasn’t real, man,” Aidan reassured the taller boy. His words were muffed on account of his mouth being crushed up against Stephen’s shoulder, but he got the point across.

Stephen pulled away, eyes wet. “I felt so bad when you…”

Aidan patted Stephen on the shoulder. “Not your fault. Besides, Thomas pulled me out early, just like Jo pulled you out now.”

Stephen looked at me, and I motioned for them both to sit down. “I asked Tommy to pull you out early, so you wouldn't have to suffer. He did the same for Aidan when he was locked in the Maze.”

Stephen blinked several times. “Okay, so, you gonna explain this like you do to the Greenies in the Glade?”

“Of course,” I responded easily. “So. The acronym on the beetle blades, and the supplies? W.I.C.K.E.D. World in Catastrophe Killzone Experiment Department. That’s where we are. The W.I.C.K.E.D. facilities. They put on the Maze Trials. That’s us. We were a part of Group A. There is also a Group B, which has only girls, so far.”

He smiled. “Oh, really?” He nudged Aidan, winking. 

I glared. “Focus. Now, they made a Maze, but Tommy changed things so that the workers filmed the actual Maze, then put us to sleep, connected us to computers, and created a Simulator. That saves us from any disasters, such as injury or death.”

“Like me?”

I nodded. “Exactly. The Simulator also makes things easier to map our brain patterns, which is the point of the Trials.”

He looked confused. “What?”

I bit my lip. “There’s a disease. Called the Flare. From what I know, there were Sun Flares that scorched the planet, and this disease resulted afterwards. The world is practically burnt up and falling apart. The disease is in our heads, so W.I.C.K.E.D. thinks that mapping our brain patterns will help them develop a cure.”

“Why us?”

“We’re immune.”

Stephen glanced at Aidan. “All of us?” he asked.

We both nodded. “Some of us,” Aidan said, “are not immune in the Simulator, but it’s just another variable. All of us kids have to be Immune to be a part of the Trials.”

“Then what? What after the Trials?”

Aidan motioned to me. “Jo here is trying to secure us a ticket to paradise.”

“But it’s a work in progress,” I said quickly. 

“Paradise?” Stephen whistled. “That’s new.”

“It’s a sanctuary,” I rephrased. “For immunes only.”

“What about everyone else? Our families?” Stephen sat up excitedly. “Hey, what about our memories?”

“You can get them back if you want,” I told him. “I did not.”

“I did,” Aidan said. “But…I would suggest not doing it.”

Stephen looked at his friend sharply. “Why the shuck not?”

Aidan grimaced. “Um…Flare took my family, man. Not pretty. I can look into your files, let you know if you wanna see it or not.”

Stephen shook his head. “No. I’ve waited long enough to know what happened, I _am_ learning what happened!”

“Fine, fine,” I said, “the choice is yours. Any who, you’ll probably do what we do. Be assigned to certain Gladers and take notes on their behavior.”

“That’s what you do?”

Aidan and I both nodded. “That’s how I know that your leg stuff were variables,” Aidan said.

“What are variables?

I frowned apologetically. “Variables. Things that affect what happens in the Glade, to cause actions or reactions.”

“Such as?”

“Her ‘death,’” Aidan offered.

Stephen’s mouth fell open. “No shucking way. Those shuckfaces killed you to get a reaction?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “I had to monitor the reactions to it.”

“Then you saw how bad Newt got.”

“Yes,” I said regrettably. “I saw everything.”

“He’s not a Runner anymore. He got a limp. Now he’s a Mapper, and…a Minder, kinda.”

“I know.” I remembered my first few weeks watching the Maze. The memory of Newt’s attempted suicide hurt me. Aidan noticed, having seen what happened, and cleared his throat.

“So, anyways, Stephen, that’s basically it. Come on. Let’s get you some food, yeah?”

They both stood. “Good that,” Stephen said, eyeing me carefully. “Uh, Jo. I didn’t mean…I wasn’t trying to make you upset…”

I patted his shoulder, realizing that my face had been showing my pain. “It’s fine, Stephen. Come see me anytime.”

Aidan ushered Stephen out the door. “See you at dinner, Jo?”  
I nodded. “Sure.”

He closed the door behind him, saying, “We’ll come get you. I know you get wrapped up in this sometimes.”

After they both left, I sat heavily on the couch, staring at the screens. “You’re right,” I muttered, as Minho shouted in rage, kicking tree trunks in the forest. He was upset. Newt was, too, but suffered silently. He sat under a tree, where we had fallen asleep together the night after I found him crying. He did not cry now, just stared ahead of him blankly.

I used the beetle blade camera to move in on him. He sat that way for hours. When he finally moved, it was to look up at the sky.

“Newt,” I whispered tearfully. My eyes filled up. I missed him so much. I missed my best friend. I reached out to touch the screen, wishing I could touch him, comfort him. Hold him.

He fingered my watch, then glanced at the scar of my name before setting his eyes back to the heavens. “Take care of him, Jo,” he whispered to the star-less sky. “Take care of Stephen, please, love. Be his angel.”

I let out a sob. “I will, Newt,” I promised, though I knew he could not hear me. 

Somehow, he looked more peaceful. “Thank you, love,” he sighed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( Another one gone. But, he's not really dead! 
> 
> If you think I'm killing too many people, remember I am going off of the Wall of Names and database, mostly, to stay canon!


	48. A Rough Month

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the final weeks before Tommy enters the Maze, Jo, as well as the Gladers, experience many changes. WICKED wants to set up the Glade for his arrival, but what is it like on Jo's side of the Trials?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Reference: 25 Nightmares and 38 Trapped

 

Stephen adjusted. Soon after, I was approached by Peterson. I was busy tidying up my notes on Newt and Minho when he walked into my observation room. “Joan, I am afraid I need you to help out Charles.”

“Chuckie?” I used the nickname I gave him. I stood, placing my notes in a folder. “Here, observations on today.”

He took the folder and put it under his arm. “He is entering the Simulator tomorrow, and is…agitated. While we want our subjects shaken up, I believe that he is being less than cooperative.”

I put my hands on my hips. “So, what, you want me to lie to him, tell him everything will be okay?”

Peterson smiled cruelly, his dark eyes sharp. “Exactly. This way.”

He led me out of my room and down to Chuck’s room, on the first level. He was sitting in his room. He was on his bed, which was higher up than mine was, with drawers beneath it. Peterson shut the door, then left, giving me a cold look before leaving us in privacy.

“Jo, I’m nervous,” Chuck told me. He kept swinging his legs, which dangled from the high bed, in his agitation. “They’re gonna take my memories, huh?”

I sat next to him and took his hand. It was small and chubby, no different from when I first woke up. His hair was freshly washed, still in tight brown curls. “Yes, Chuckie. They’ll take your memories, but it’s just a Simulator, remember?”

He nodded, but still looked uneasy. “Yeah but…I don’t want to forget my family. I don’t want to forget my mom. I mean, I forgot my real name and my family’s names, but I’ve never forgotten my mom’s face.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But you’ll get to meet the Gladers again. See them all.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

I thought of Newt. He would probably be the first one Chuckie met, even if they were using a rope to bring the boys out of the Box now. “How about you do something for me, hmm?”

He glanced at me, somewhat intrigued. “What? I won’t remember anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I assured him. “Just, make sure to be you, and everything will be okay.”

Peterson came in. “Charles, it’s time.”

“My name’s Chuck,” he said harshly, before sighing and giving me a tight hug. He looked at me, eyes wide and pleading. “Can you…can you come with me?”

I took his hand. “Sure, Chuckie. I’ll hold your hand until you fall asleep, how about that?”

He nodded enthusiastically. Peterson sighed, but did not protest. The three of us walked together to the Simulator room, passing Tommy on the way.

“Hey, Chuck,” Tommy called. We all turned to see him leaning against the corner of the hallway. “You’ll be great, man.” He saluted us, and Chuck smiled.

“Come on,” I pressed gently when Peterson glared.

“Okay,” Chuck replied, not as nervous anymore. We brought him to the Simulator Room, where his cot was ready.   
He tackled me for another hug. “I’ll see Newt, won’t I?” 

I hugged him back just as fiercely. “Yes. He’ll be good to you, Chuck.”

He laid down on the cot, and Peterson gave him an injection in his arm. Then, the older man started hooking up the monitors and the headgear. “I know. I guess I’ll see you when this is all over, right Jo?”  
I squeezed his hand, as he started to drift off. “Of course, Chuckie. I’m here for you.”

He fell asleep, and the monitor lit up. On the screen, his unconscious Simulator-self was in the Box, ready to be sent up.

I sighed sadly as I excited the Simulator Room. 

Another one gone.

 

—

 

A week after Chuck arrived, Nick approached Newt while he was Mapping. “Newt?”

Newt was finishing Section Seven of his miniatures. It showed the entirety of the Maze, since it had been mapped for a long time. “Hmm?”

Nick leaned up agains the wall of the Map Room. “You know when Minho found Stephen?”

Newt’s eyes flashed. “Why?”

“Where was he?”

Newt pointed to a spot on the map. “Here. Near Section Three. It was open that day. He bled out.”

“Where did the blood start?”

Newt pursed his lips, then pointed near the edge of the table. “Not too far from the Cliff. What are you getting at, mate?”

Nick leaned forwards excitedly. “Newt, what if he found something? What if he found something near the Cliff?”

Newt frowned. “It’s a cliff, Nick. There’s nothing down there.”

“But there could be,” Nick stressed. “What if he was onto something? In his notes, he circled that area, didn’t he?”

I knew that Stephen had indeed been onto something, and that was why Peterson entered the Variable that a Griever would get his leg.

“Not yet,” the dark-haired man insisted when I confronted him later, after Stephen was settled in. “They cannot know about the escape, not yet.”

Newt’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nick. If there was anything there—”

“I’m going to Run tomorrow,” Nick announced. 

Newt deadpanned. “Nick,” he protested, but Nick cut him off.

“You know what the Greenie asked me about?” 

Newt shook his head.

“He asked me about that photo in the Homestead. Of Jo. Asked who she was, asked if there was a girl. Shuck, Newt, she’s been gone for how long and we haven’t told a single greenie about her. Then? Then he asked if he had a mother. Asked if any of us remembered mothers that we could go back to. You know what? I want a family to go back to, as well. I want to see my family, and Jo was like a sister to me.”

Newt fingered my watch. “I know, mate.”

Nick rubbed his nose. “Newt, I want to get back to my family. I want to go home. Tomorrow, I am Running to the Cliff, and I am going to see if Stephen was on to something.”

Newt sighed. “Fine. Here’s a map. Make sure you don’t get bloody lost.”

 

—

 

While I was in my observation room, Peterson informed me that there would be a change of leadership in the Glade, and that I would be observing not only the reactions to Nick’s demise, but the changes in the Order of the Glade.

“You’re going to kill Nick?” I deadpanned. “You can’t!”

Peterson handed me my papers, bored. “It is a variable, Joan, just as your removal was. There needs to be a shakeup in the leadership.”

“Why?” I demanded angrily. 

“You are not privy to that information,” he said simply, then closed the door on me. I reached for it, to leave, to talk to Aidan and Stephen, and thankfully found it unlocked. 

“Aidan!” I knocked on his observation room door frantically. He opened quickly, revealing Stephen inside with him. “Nick,” he said, and I nodded.

“He…” My eyes widened as I saw the screen behind him. Nick Ran the Maze, and he found the Cliff. He found Stephen’s bloodstain. However, he also found the Griever Hole. Nick was overlooking the edge of the Cliff, but, unknown to him, the ledge he was standing on was weak. A variable, I knew, because that edge was not supposed to be crumbling.

Aidan followed by gaze. Stephen’s eyes were already glued to the screen. We all watched in horror as the stone ledge cracked, but thankfully, Nick noticed and leapt back into the Maze. I sighed in relief. 

However, we did not relax for long. When Nick peered over the side to see the damage, he noticed that the crumbling rock of the ledge had vanished. “No way,” he muttered. His eyes widened, and he leapt up, racing back to the Glade. He took a wrong turn, and ended up and the Blades. Nick was lost. Something about the scenes of him running frantically seemed familiar, and then I knew: I had dreamed of it in nightmares, while I was in the Glade.

“Shuck,” he muttered. I sat down on the couch with Aidan and Stephen, and we all watched together. He consulted his maps, then muttered again.

“He’s being taken out,” I told the other two. I stood up. “Nick will be lost in the Maze, and he’ll die.” 

Aidan stood as well. “I’ll go see Thomas.”

Stephen sighed. “I’ll take notes.”

I opened the door. “And I’ll go be there if—when—he wakes up.” I raced to the Simulator Room, and when I got inside, the screen was showing Nick, alone in the Maze. The Blades were moving. They were not supposed to move! Not without codes…Nick had no codes. It was Peterson, it was a variable! Nick was dodging the Blades, trying to get through, but as he did, one Blade closed on him, slicing him down the middle.

“Ahhh!” he screamed, collapsing to his side. He writhed in agony as his middle opened and gushed with blood.

I moved a chair next to his cot and grasped real-Nick’s hand. Simulator-Nick was gasping, holding his bloody wounds. “Nick,” I murmured mournfully. “Nick, it’s okay. Let go.”

He was not waking up. I glared, angry that he had to suffer.

“NICK!” 

Minho skidded to his side. I hadn’t even noticed him coming. How did he know…Nick screamed, he must have heard, but how….Minho was a Runner! Shuck it, he was tracking Nick. “Nick, Nick!”

Nick tried to speak. “The Cliff,” he managed, coughing up blood. 

“How did the Blades move?” Minho asked, trying to press his hands to Nick’s wounds. There was so little time left!

Minho checked his watch and grimaced, then looked back at Nick’s wound.

Nick saw. “Go, Min,” he gurgled. “Don’t look back.” He tried to speak again, but blood came up his mouth, and he could not repeat his information about the Cliff. Hopefully Minho understood the first time, but I was not sure. Nick swatted Minho away, and Minho reluctantly complied, standing up, giving one last look at his friend. Then he sprinted back to the Glade, never looking back.

I felt my heart clench. Simulator-Nick’s eyes closed on the screen as Minho disappeared, as real-Nick’s eyes slowly opened before me. I took off his headgear.

“Nick,” I greeted. 

His eyes widened, and he sat up, curiously glancing at his front, which was giving him no pain. “Jo? Kiddo…ah, shuck, kiddo, I…ya, I did, didn’t I?” He rubbed his nose.

“No, Nick, you’re not dead,” I assured him.

He stopped rubbing his nose. “I…I’m not?”

“Nope. Come on, up. Let me explain things.”

He got out of his cot, following my instructions, though puzzled. He let me lead him out of the room, and down the hall, to the room where Stephen was waiting. 

“Stephen?” He strode forwards and hugged his friend enthusiastically. “What happened to you, ya shank?”

Aidan burst in. “Nick!”

“Aidan!” Nick grinned, embracing the newcomer. 

Aidan pulled away, clapping Nick on the shoulder. He turned to me. “You tell him the family news yet?”

Nick’s smile vanished. “Wait…I’m confused. Kiddo?”

“Nick,” I sighed, pointing at the couch, “you’d better sit down…”

 

—

 

Nick did not take the news well. He was glad to hear that we were cousins, and wanted to get his memories back, but he was infuriated that we were being used as lab rats. Peterson had two strong workers drag him away, to a room on the other side of the common area, where they threw him in a chair and did tests on his brain patterns. Since he had been a leader, his patterns were more interesting. They played back important moments from the Maze Trials in his head, and compared his present reactions to the original ones.

It was torture, and I was sentenced to it as well. Since I was the only girl, my patterns were interesting as well. I also learned, much to my anger, that the entire time I had been watching the Simulations of my friends, other doctors had been watching me.

I found the camera at the top of my wall-sized viewing screen.

“Peterson!” I shouted, marching up to him in his office one day. ‘You’ve been spying on me!”

He did not react. “Of course we have been, Joan. We watch you watch the other subjects. I do have to say, your brain patterns are increasingly interesting. 

“How do you map them? I’m not asleep. I don’t have headgear.”

He tapped his forehead. “You still have those chips in your heads.”

“They don’t work without computers.”

“And what are you always around? They come in quite useful, especially for dramatic events. Such as when Mr. Newton jumped from the walls. Your reactions were stellar.”

I lunged at him, but a pair of arms wrapped around my waist behind me. “Calm down, Joan,” a new voice said. It was a female voice, and when I turned behind me, I saw a middle-aged, olive-skinned woman with tired but beautiful olive-colored eyes. 

“He’s been playing me!” I shrieked.

She sighed. “It is just a part of the Trials, Joan. Now, I am afraid you are needed to analyze the Gladers now, or would you like to undergo some more tests like your cousin Nick?”

I reluctantly left, knowing that if I made a mistake, someone could get hurt. I was escorted away, to get my blood drawn. I hardly could stay still. My anger did not die down. The Gladers were devastated by Nick’s death. Alby became the leader, Newt became co-leader. Minho remembered Nick’s comment about the Cliff, but he did not know what it meant. 

Great.

Soon after, I saw that Ben had been Stung. It happened while he was getting ivy from inside the Maze corridors, and was just before the next Greenie went up. I knew that with the dramatic changes in this last month, Alby would have a hard time welcoming a newbie, without Nick or Ben available.

Newt tried to help, but he, too, was shaken up. He was even more confused when he went to see Ben, green and feverish, in his first night of the Changing. I was up late, and I just returned from talking with the half-awake Ben in his alcove. Back in my observation room, I watched the screen carefully as Newt’s mouth fell open, and his eyes grew wide.

“Newt?” I asked, worried.

“Jo,” he breathed, and I started. “Jo, you knew. How did you know?”

I was confused. What was he talking about?

Then I remembered. My dreams, my nightmares, from after Justin’s attack, and after Carl scratched me. I dreamt that Newt fell from the sky, and he did, when he jumped from the Maze walls. Now, Ben’s skin was green, also like I dreamed.

“Minho,” he muttered. “You said Minho and Alby and some shank were in the Maze and it was dark,” he remembered. “You said Minho jumped off the Cliff. Bloody hell, Jo, what did the Creators show you?”

“I wish I were with you,” I told the screen. I knew that I said that far too much, but I missed him. I did not want him to miss me, but he did. I just…

“Knock knock?” I turned to see Teresa peeking her head in through my door. “Hey, Jo…I think you should know something.” She sat down beside me on my boring white couch, and took my hand. I stared at her worriedly. “Jo,” she explained, “Tom and I are going in. He’s the next Greenie. That’s why there had to be instability in the Glade, it was so that he could start making changes.”

I squeezed her hand. “You’ll both have your memories?”

She shook her head sadly and looked down. “Just Aris and me. Rachel and Tom will forget, though we’ll be able to use telepathy.”

I sat up. “Telepathy?”

She nodded. “Tom and me, and Aris and Rachel. Aris and I will be in comas for awhile, so we’ll be able to talk to each other then, just to keep from going mad.”

I hummed in sympathy. “Good luck,” I told her, hugging her. “Where’s Tommy?”

She hugged me back, then pulled away, biting her lip. “Getting his memories swiped. We already said goodbye, the four of us. I…” She rubbed her eyes. “I cried. It was silly of me, but…”

“No,” I cooed, “it’s not silly.”

She sniffled. “It’s just that…Tom thought he would keep his memories. See, I came up with this idea, being inserted into the Trials. But I told Tom that we’d remember everything, and now he won’t. I betrayed him without even meaning to! Paige Played me! Before you woke up, there was another Chancellor, Anderson. She infected him and some others in order to take over, and now she changed my plan!”

I went cold. Ava had done that?

“Teresa,” I said quietly, but there was nothing to say.

 

—

 

After Tommy and Rachel were put to sleep, I comforted Teresa. She was weeping passionately all day, and I knew how hard it was for her, to watch her friends enter the Maze. Especially Tommy. She loved him, if not romantically, at least as her best friend.

“This is how it felt when you realized you lost Newt, isn’t it?” she sobbed that night, watching Tommy at the bonfire. “When you could watch, knowing that he had no idea what was going on?”

I held her close to me, rocking her back and forth on her mattress. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, this is how it felt.”

I offered her a hankie, which she took. “How did you deal with it?”

I thought a moment. “I had you. And I knew that one day, Newt would wake up, and I’d see him again, truly see him again. Whatever happens in the Trials, I know he can wake up with me by his side.”

She sobbed harder. “What if Tom doesn't remember me? What if he never does? What if he never remembers that I loved him?”

“Shhh, sweetie,” I cooed. “He’ll feel something for you, I’m sure of it. And if not, well…when you wake up, you tell him.”

She sniffled. “What if he’s chosen as the Final Candidate? He’ll die before I can tell him!”

I hardly knew what to say. I just held her, rocking her back and forth, for some time, until the Gladers had gone to sleep on the screen. Finally I decided, “Then when you both wake up, I mean really wake up, really die and move on, then you tell him. When your lives are over and your souls go to the next place, you tell him. Maybe he’ll already know. Maybe you will. Maybe one of you will wake up first and be able to watch the other live out your lives. Like Newt and me. I’m ‘dead’ to him, but I watch over him. Maybe that’s how it is in Heaven, too.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hence why Minho always says, “Don’t look back!”
> 
> And now, the Glade is set up for Tommy's arrival in TMR. Now you will be able to see what happens to him, from Jo's point of view, in the coming chapters. Remember, her perspective reveals how WICKED uses the Simulator, so everyone will get a second chance after they wake up!


	49. Emotional Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo observes Tommy's first days in the Glade. When Teresa arrives, she sees how everyone reacts, but even her responses are being observed. When Ben is Banished, what will she do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Reference: Ch. 38: Trapped

Newt called Thomas Tommy, just as I did. 

He did forget everything, as Teresa was worried about, but was intensely curious. He even seemed to wonder at the photograph of me. Gally was particularly unpleasant, probably because he had seen Tommy in the Changing. Tommy called Gally “Captain,” as Gally demanded, like I did once, but Gally ended up hating him even more for it. 

Shucking Gally.

Newt tried to stop Tommy from seeing Ben in the Changing, just as I had demanded so long ago—no newbies—but Tommy saw it anyways. It unnerved him, and I was sorry for that. I was sorry he had lost his memories, and I was sorry he was in there. 

The next day, Teresa was put to sleep, and came up in the Simulated Box in a coma. All of the Gladers were shocked. They all gathered around the metal doors where the Box would come up, as the alarm blared. Newt and Alby left Ben’s side to come see, and on the walk over, Alby asked Newt to go into the Box, like I used to.

“Something’s up, Newt,” Alby said.

Newt nodded, limping along. “Bloody hell you don’t think I know that? I’m looking in the buggin’ Box, first. Gonna need a rope to get out. Can’t jump with this limp.”

“Good that,” Alby agreed, and the Gladers parted to allow the two leaders to get closer. The elevator came to a halt, and they opened the metal doors.

Newt leaned over to peer into the Box. I watched his face anxiously, eager to see his reaction to Teresa—and scared for him.

He saw Teresa’s limp body and jerked upright, a look of pain and confusing flashing across his face. “Holy…” he breathed, looking around at nothing, lost in his memories. I saw his ‘remembering-Jo-and-it-hurts’ expression settle on his face, I could see the pain in his eyes.

Alby peeked over Newt’s shoulder, and immediately panicked. “No way,” he muttered, rubbing his nose. He glanced at Newt and grimaced, then, as the other Gladers began to demand what was going on, shouted, “Hold on! Just hold on!”

I knew this was hard for them both. I sighed as Dmitri yelled from the back, “Well, what’s wrong?”

Alby stood up. “Two Newbies in two days,” he breathed in disbelief. “Now this. Two years, nothing different, now this.” I wanted to scream at him when he glared at Tommy accusingly. “What’s goin’ on here, Greenie” he demanded, as if Tommy had any idea.

“Alby you stupid shank, he’s just a newbie!” I yelled at the screen. “Leave him alone!”  
Thomas turned red. “How am I supposed to know?” 

Gally crossed his arms firmly across his chest, glaring at Tommy. “Stupid shank,” he muttered under his breath, then, louder, called out, “Why don’t you just tell us what the shuck is down there, Alby?”

The other boys murmured and moved forward, trying to get a glimpse down the Box. “You shanks shut up!” Alby shouted at them. He turned to Newt, who was still staring painfully at Teresa. “Tel ‘em, Newt.”

Newt took a breath, glancing at Teresa one more time, then faced the gathered boys gravely. “It’s a girl,” he said. 

Everyone erupted into murmurs. When the boys started calling dibs on Teresa, I could see rage on Gally’s face. He remembered when I came up, when the boys called dibs on me. He remembered Justin. He set his jaw and walked away, to the Homestead, into the Med-jack hut, which was downstairs after the fire that had burned up half of the Homestead. He sat with Ben, unconscious on a cot. The boys around the Box dealt with Teresa and her note, but I shifted to focus my attention on Gally.

He sat down next to Ben with a sigh. “Ben, shank. You’ll never believe…” He rubbed his face. “Shuck, man. Creators must be playing with our heads. First Stephen, then Nick, then you. We get some arrogant Newbie and now? Now we have some shank girl.”

Ben writhed in his bonds. It was just as Newt had remembered: Ben’s skin was green, like it had been in my nightmares I had when recovering from Justin’s attack. Newt had fallen from the sky—from the walls—Nick had been lost in the Maze—though at least he returned to the Glade—and now here was Ben, his skin green. When would my other nightmares come true? Had they all been another part of the variables?

Yes, I realized. They all were. _All_ my nightmares were showing what was going to come, because they were variables that were planned. 

“Those shanks out there calling dibs on her. Like she were some…” He slammed his fist on the table. “Half of them weren't here for Jo, the other half…they pretend not to remember because it hurts too bad. We never talk about her, ya know? We got that shuck photograph of her, but we never tell the Newbies who she was. Now we got a girl to replace her. Well, Jo was our friend. I don’t care what these shanks say, this girl won’t fill Jo’s spot. She won’t be a Minder, and she sure as hell won’t be my friend.”

 

—

 

Clint was called on to check Teresa over. When he leaned in to check for a heartbeat, one of the newer boys called out, “Who said Clint has first shot at her? I’m next!”

Newt’s head whipped around to stare murderously in the direction of the speaker. Winston was next to the boy, and turned to give him a similar death glare. “If you do anything, I’ll throw you in the Maze,” he threatened in a whisper.

Alby’s mouth tightened into a thin line, as it did when he thought of what Justin did to me. His eyes fell to slits, and his voice was like stone when he said, “If anybody touches this girl, you’ll be spending the night sleepin’ with the Grievers in the Maze. Banished, no questions.” He turned in a half-circle, ensuring that everyone saw his dangerous eyes. “Ain’t nobody better touch her. Nobody!” 

Ernie the Bagger dragged away the boy who’d spoken from the crowd. Winston followed. They took authoritative stances in front of the boy, a Slicer, and gave him a firm lecture. “You don’t go near that girl. Hear me?” Winston nodded at the Bagger.

“I’m your Keeper. Unless you want me crossing your name off the Wall, you stay away. Ernie and the other Bagger’s’ll be watching you.”

The boy looked terrified. 

Good. 

Winston returned to the Box, just as Jeff and Clint carried Teresa off to the Homestead, where Gally was waiting with Ben.

I sat back in my white, boring couch and put my hands to my face. This was not good. This was, as Teresa explained to me, her triggering the end of the Maze Trials.

Now the real trouble would begin.

 

—

 

The new doctor, the beautiful woman, Dr. Sandra Walberg, was around more often. She was the one to collect my notes, and she seemed to know just what had bothered me most about the day’s events, and I realized that she was the one watching me, analyzing my brain patterns. 

I appreciated that when I confronted her about it, she did not lie. “Yes,” she said brightly. We sat at one of the high tables in the common room on the third floor. She had a cup of coffee in front of her. “Your patterns are quite interesting. Your attention to emotional details are far more specific than any of your fellow subjects that have woken up and are observing the Glade.”

I tapped my fingers on the table. “Emotional details, huh?”

She nodded. “Yes. In the Glade, you were one of our top emotional subjects. We used many variables on you. Now, you’re our best observer for the emotions of the subjects of Group A. You’re doing very well,” she patted my back, and left me there, pondering what she said. 

My own emotions were tried when Ben attacked Tommy, and was sentenced to Banishment. I knew it was a variable to test Tommy, and the Glader’s reactions to Tommy, and I knew that Ben had not been given a choice in the matter. I also knew that this variable did not interfere with the ‘free will’ concept, because Ben was still in the Changing. In the Changing, no rules applied.

I cried when Ben was dragged to the closing Doors. It hurt everyone, but Ben had attacked, and Order had to stand.

A thought sparked my mind as I made notes on Newt’s quiet sob as he went into the shack to grab the Banishment pole. He put on a straight face before he walked out, but he was simply hiding his pain. Ben was about to die, so it was time for me to go to the Simulator Room…

I raced there. Ben was still in an alcove, meaning he was not fully out of the Changing. I dragged a chair over to him, but instead of taking his hand, I stared at the computer screen by his bed, with its keyboard and mouse at the base.

I was not _exactly_ authorized to interfere, but the computers were _right_ here, and Tommy _did_ just show me how to wake someone up…

I reached for the mouse. I drew a square around Ben’s face, right clicked, and chose to wake him up now.

“Yes” hovered on the new option box. I turned my gaze back to the great screen, where Ben was being shoved into the Maze.

“Nooo!” he shrieked, as the Keepers thrust him four feet into the Maze. He tried desperately to escape from his collar, but to no avail. With one last violent effort, he twisted his body around to face the Glade, looking mad.

“Hold!” Alby commanded, and Ben screamed one last unwavering note as Dmitri, in the front, yanked the the pole back into the Glade, just before the Doors boomed shut.

I clicked the box, and “Subject Awakened” flashed on the computer monitor. I tore my eyes away from the monitor, unhooked Ben’s cords and headgear, and he awakened in his cot.

“Hi, Ben,” I said, as his eyes widened. He was breathing heavily, and sweating. 

“Princess?” he whispered. 

I nodded. “Ben—”

Something pinched my arm, and my vision vanished. 

 

—

 

White lights blinded me when I woke. I was in a chair, and I felt my limbs tied down to the cold metal. “You pulled Mr. Benjamin out of the trials,” a familiar voice accused. Janson. I had not seen him in weeks, thankfully. His sick drawl always made me feel nauseous, as it did now. “You took him out before he faced the Grievers.” I could not see anything save for white lights, but I could hear him behind me. I struggled against my bonds, but he slapped me across the face to stop me. “That wasn’t your place, Joan.”

“It wasn’t your place to let him get Stung,” I growled. “Even if it is in a shucking Simulator—that wasn't your place.”

“A variable, Joan, a variable. Don’t you see? None of you really matter. It’s just a test. Just a test for a cure, to save humanity. If it wasn’t for Chancellor Paige, I’d have you all be drained for your blood, so we could make a cure for the rest of us.”

I remembered this, but I never gave it much thought. After Peterson burned the Homestead, I gave up on arguing scientific solutions, such as blood as a cure. I only subtly implied that the Flare was a physical disease, not a mental one, and since a blood cure was physical, I would be totally right, but totally ignored.

“But no,” Janson sneered, “we have to be _humane_. We accept donations of blood, we don’t force them.”

I cried out as something sharp pricked my arm. I was still blinded.

“Well, this is your donation!” It was a needle, he was taking my blood. I felt a pull on it and realized that he was not just draining it, he was drawing it out with a machine. 

I screamed and squirmed, hoping at least to knock my vision back in place. He stuffed a wad of cloth in my mouth to shut me up, and gave me another shot, but not before I heard pounding on the door. “Hey kid!” Nick shouted, as the injection made my brain foggy. “Kid! Hey somebody get over here, help me!”

I heard the door swing open, and the needle was yanked out, and Nick’s voice was by my ear, and he was hugging me, and I heard Dr. Walberg’s voice yelling at guards and telling me that nothing was wrong, that my vision would return shortly. 

 

—

 

“Kid, you okay?” Nick asked from beside me.

I opened my eyes painfully. “Ben,” I croaked.

Ben, alive and well, appeared behind Nick. “Hey, princess,” he greeted me. “Aidan explained some stuff. Princess, you didn’t need to…to wake me up. Not if it got you in trouble.”

I sat up. I was in my room again, my bedroom. Nick, Aidan, Ben, and Dr. Walberg were also there. “No,” I told Ben, “it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t need to suffer for it. And I’ll explain the rest…later.”

Dr. Walberg checked my pulse. “Joan, your reaction to Benjamin’s Banishment gave me a surplus of patterns to work with. I will be doing more tests on you from now on, but until then, your observations will be mainly restricted to Newt. Ben will take over on Gally, and both you and Nick will watch Alby.”

I nodded. Dr. Walberg was nicer than Peterson was. I could at the very least be cooperative. She smiled at me, then left, and the boys started asking questions. 

“What is she talking about?” Aidan asked.

“Your patterns?” Nick wondered.

“You’re being tested?” Ben frowned.

I put my hands up. “They observe us as we observe the Gladers. I observe emotions well, and that makes my brain pattens interesting. That’s all.”

Nick rubbed his nose. “And you get emotional when you watch Newt.”

I put my legs over the side of my bed. Shuck, I wish my room was not so cold. “Exactly. I wish I were with him,” I thought aloud.

“You say that _all_ the time,” Nick accused.

I glared at him sharply. “I miss him!”

Ben put his hand on my knee. “He misses you too, princess,” he said, and smiled sadly.

“I know,” I muttered. I thought of all of the times I saw him staring at the scar of my name, and wished that I had my own. But, Ava forbid me to get a tattoo, or to scar myself again. “I guess we have to go back to work,” I said, and we all nodded. 

More observations. 

 

—

 

As I laid in bed that night, I thought about how Ben was manipulated. I thought about how the Sting caused him to go feral and attack Tommy. I thought about the various variables used against the Gladers to cause emotional reactions. Sometimes it wasn’t even their fault, or their own free will (despite what the scientists claimed). Sometimes the variables caused them to act against their will. I hated it, and I felt awful knowing that so many Gladers were manipulated like that.

I sat straight up. Suddenly, my head was clear, my body was freezing, and my breath was caught in my chest.

 _Justin_.

Justin was a slinthead, sure, but…what if…

 _“A variable, Joan, a variable,”_ Janson had said. _“Don’t you see? None of you really matter. It’s just a test.”_

Janson did not care whether or not we lived. Whether or not we had free will. 

 _“In the Glade, you were one of our top emotional subjects,”_ Walberg had noted. _“We used many variables on you.”_

“No,” I whined, pulling my blanket to my chest.

_“We used many variables on you.”_

I threw off my covers, yanked open my door, and sprinted down the hall, to where I knew Walberg would still be, in the common room, looking over her notes for the day.

When I got to the Common Room, there she was, a mug of decaf coffee still steaming in front of her, a pen in her hand. She did not seem to be surprised to see me, but the portable tablet propped up in front of her displayed a graph. On that graph was a line, and it had just skyrocketed.

“Feeling a bit emotional, Joan?” she asked easily. 

I slowly walked towards her, keeping an eye on the graph that was obviously mapping my emotions. I tried to keep the line steady. “Justin,” I spat accusingly. “Was that you? Was his attack a variable?”

She didn’t even blink. She didn’t show a single reaction that could have convinced me that the scientists were innocent. “Of course it was,” she replied simply, and while I appreciated her honestly, I hated the emotionless way told me the truth. “I’m surprised, given your potential for empathy, that it took you this long to think of him. Was it what happened to Mr. Benjamin?”

“Did you kill him?” I demanded, remembering that Teresa had told me he was dead before he woke up.

“Yes. If he were alive, it could interfere with your testing. Even if you _were_ friends before the Trials.”

  
Any warmth left in my body vanished. “Wh…what?” I managed. My journal had not mentioned anything about Justin.

She set the pen she was holding down. “Mr. Justin had quite a crush on you in the pre-Trials. All quite innocent, I’m sure, but he was a bit jealous of the special bond you had with Mr. Newton, and your cousin Mr. Nikola. Still, he was respectful of your feelings, and never took anything past his own unrequited love.”

The line on the graph turned color, from purple to blue. It looked as cold as I felt.

“I’m afraid we erased his name from your journal. We wanted the journal to provide a reaction about Miss Sonja, but not Mr. Justin.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “That was my journal."

“We may have added and subtracted some things. Such as Justin.”

“But…but he hated me.”

Walberg shook her head. “I believe Mr. Newton told you that Mr. Justin was angry that you did not have feelings for him?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you mess with his head?”

“I already said, yes. Mr. Justin had the potential to be a best friend of yours, but we ensured that certain variables put him…let’s say, on the other side of the spectrum. Hate, not love. Violence, not delicacy. As you know, his actions were extremely valuable in mapping your emotional patterns. Even after he attacked you, you still could not hate him, could you? You still did not want him dead.”

 _No,_ I thought. _No, no, no._ “Are you saying…he never would have attacked me if it wasn't for you?”

“Precisely. Though,” she added, “I am sure he never would have been more than a friend to you. Your feelings for Mr. Newton are too strong for that. Additionally, in time, Mr. Justin would have seen you simply as a friend, as well.”

I remembered how Justin taunted me, fought against me, made crude comments to me. _Attacked_ me. Without the scientists, he would have teased me in a friendly way, made sarcastic—but not offensive—comments—like Minho—and would have fought with me like a brother would. I could have wrestled with him, teamed up against Gally with him, played tricks on Newt and Minho with him. If he got into a fight, or was hurt, I would have scolded him just like I would scold Minho. If he stuck his tongue out at me, I would have smacked his head. If he was being a slinthead, I would have thrown a bucket of water at him.

If he was my friend, I would have cared.

If he was my friend, I would have rolled my eyes when he said he didn’t want a Med-jack, when he said we were stupid. I would have kicked his feet and said, “Oi, you stupid shank, you want to get an infection or not?” And he would have grumbled and let me treat him, and then he would have teased me about Newt, and if he called me “babe” it would be in jest, and I would still hate it, and it would be annoying, but it would have been as if he was a brother. When we would really and truly argue, it would take Newt and Gally to break us apart, because we’d be so irritated with each other, and without romantic feelings for him, I would be fine with biting his head off. Because he would be my friend, and that’s what friends do.

If he ever scared me, like Newt and Minho did when I thought they were trapped in the Maze, I would have been so pissed off. If he held an ax out to defend himself, I would have yanked it from his hands and smacked his head, all the while yelling, “Justin you slinthead! How could you be so stupid?!” Even if it was for a good reason.

He would have defended me against any other guys who tried to mess with me—like Stan, who, in hindsight, was probably unsure of himself, filled with self-doubt, and was trying to feel better about himself by dominating—unsuccessfully, of course—over me. While I could never justify an assault like what those two had separately tried to attempt, I also could not hate them entirely for something that the scientists had used them as _puppets_ for.

Justin was probably filled with self-doubt, too. Being bullied by the other boys had made him rude and angry, like Gally was now. Being angry and being, well, a douche, was a guard for his real feelings. Anger is Hurt and Sadness’s bodyguard. Was it Ben’s fault that he had attacked Tommy? No. Sure, he was angry, but he would not have tried to _kill_ Tommy. Not like that. 

When Justin slit my wrists to make it look like I was cutting out of guilt, he was acting out of fear. I remembered the terror on his face the moments the Doors closed on him, and suddenly I felt utterly empty.

It wasn’t even his fault. 

It wasn’t _his fault._  

“I must say, Joan, your emotional patterns are different than they have been before,” Walberg informed me. “It seems you are battling with hate and forgiveness at a level you have not yet reached. Very nice work.”

As if I was controlling it.

As if this, too, was not part of some despicable plan to find some unattainable cure. I hated W.I.C.K.E.D., but I did not hate Justin. Not anymore.

“Is he really dead?” I asked coldly, meaning Justin.

“Yes, Joan,” she sighed. “I am sorry if you have any regrets. But, know that in his last moments, Peterson allowed him his full memories back. He was sorry for what he did, and he forgave you.”

I was numb.

I nodded, not even feeling anymore, and made my way back to my room like a ghost.

I mechanically climbed back into bed.

“I’m sorry, Justin,” I whispered into the dark. “I forgive you, too.”

Somehow the dark seemed to respond. Somehow it seemed to acknowledge Justin’s redemption.

Somehow, so did I.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No villain is born evil. Even a jerk like Justin has reasons, and I realized that I had not given him enough of those reasons. In this case, WICKED's control. if not for them, Justin could have been a friend. Let me know what you think!
> 
> And yeah we all hate Janson but really he's just scared, too.
> 
> Hope you like how I'm using exact text from the books, and adding in a bit more, since Jo has an outside perspective.


	50. Alby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alby goes into the Maze, but he gets Stung. While Newt and Gally argue, Jo speaks with Alby in the Changing. She owes him a life for keeping Newt's suicide attempt a secret, but what he demands in exchange is almost unthinkable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> warning: suicide thoughts and suicide. If this is trigger, feel free to skip.

I told my friends about Justin. Nick, having taken back his memories, already knew, but it felt good to tell him anyways. I vowed to never hate someone again, even W.I.C.K.E.D. After all, they were trying to help, even if I disagreed with their methods.

I thought alone in my observation room, pacing. I was tired of sitting, at the desk or on the couch. Besides, my own emotions were to wired for me to sit still, and here I was, observing emotions of the Graders. Definitely not a recipe for relaxation.

Gally sat by the Wall of Names, illuminated only by moonlight. He looked awful. I knew he was never the same after the Changing, and I could see lines on his face that were not there before. Plus, his face was in a permanent scowl, as if he were angry at the world. I could see the guilt weigh on him still, the guilt over my ‘death,’ and I wished he could know the truth.

“Shuck, Girlie,” he muttered, rubbing his hand across his face. He was staring at my name, and I knew he was remembering what he’d seen in the Changing, with Tommy, Teresa, and me. I knew he did not like Tommy because he remembered that time, when I said I was dead to him, and Tommy was there next to me, typing in codes, letting Gally remember parts of his past. He remembered that Tommy created the Maze, and the Trials.

“Gally.”

The Builder glanced up lazily as Newt approached, then sat down and joined him staring at my name. “Newt.”

“Gally, why are you so angry with Tommy? He’s just a greenie, after all.”

Gally nodded up at my name. “Her. In the Changing, I saw her. You know who else I saw? I saw that stupid shank. I remember fragments, but I remember her telling me she wouldn’t be coming back, and I remember him there with her. His face, and Jo’s. I just….I can’t help thinking that it’s his fault.” He sighed and looked down, solemn. “And mine. Shuck, Newt, I’m so sorry—”

“Gal. We’ve been over this. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I still—”

“She wouldn’t want that.” Newt stared steadfastly at the Wall. “She wouldn’t want us picking on a Newbie, either.”

Gally grumbled. “What if he remembers something?”

Newt glared sideways at his friend. “Come on, Gal. Remember Aidan? She was his fiercest supporter. She would support Tommy.”

The two sat there awhile, each thinking his own thoughts. “I still think he’s an arrogant shuckface,” Gally argued weakly.

Newt chuckled. “Naw. But, Gal, I think you’re seeing this wrong. You remember him, ya? With Jo?” Gally nodded. “Maybe…maybe that’s a reason to trust him, then.”

Gally scowled deeper, but Newt’s gaze softened at the thought. I could see on his face that he decided in that moment that he would trust Tommy, trust him even with his life, just because Gally had seen us in the Changing.

 

—

 

The day that Alby and Minho were in the Maze, Alby was Stung. Tommy slipped into the Maze just before they closed, and my Newt could do nothing to stop him.

“Bloody hell,” Newt swore as the Doors boomed shut. “I told him, I told him not to bloody do it!”

Gally threw his hands out. “What the shuck was that stupid shank thinking? He's dead! They’re all dead!”  
Newt whipped around finger pointing at Gally. “Shut it!”

I slipped into the Simulator room unnoticed. I kneeled next to Tommy and watched over him as he ran the Maze. Minho left him alone, but Tommy was insistent on helping Alby. When he ran out of ideas, I whispered to him, to tie Alby up in the ivy. When he heard the Grievers coming, I encouraged him in whispers to give another tug, to ensure Alby was high enough up. Then, he ran. A Griever followed him, but I told him where to go, when to duck and lean, so that he dodged the spikes. I tried telling Minho where to go, but he hardly listened. Finally, I directed him to where Tommy was, and they defeated a Griever together.

I sat by Alby when he went through the Changing, just as I did with every Glader. He half-woke slowly, as Peterson coded. His eyes were foggy when they first opened, right as the Screen in the room showed him being injected with Grief Serum. 

He looked all around from where he lay on the cot, only seeing the white alcove and curtain of course, until finally his sight rested on me. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“She-bean?”

I smiled and took his hand. “Hey, Alby.” He tried to sit, but I put my hand on his chest to keep him down. “Not too fast, Alby. Take it slow, okay?”

His face scrunched up in confusion. “How is this possible? You’re dead.”

Still as blunt as ever.

“No, Alby, I’m not,” I explained softly. “I can’t tell you everything. But I’m okay. You’re okay. It’s a test, all of this. The Maze. It’s a Trial. A Trial with variables, and I’m just one of them. So is this. You. You got Stung, but you’ll make it through.”

“I don’t understand.”

A door opened behind me, and Nick came through, into the Simulation Room. He made his way over to the curtained-off section where Alby and I were, finally stopping to stand beside me. “Hey, shuckface,” Nick grinned. “Not as good a Runner as you used to be, huh?”

“Nick,” I scolded. “Be nice.”

Alby gaped at us. “I’m dead,” he decided. “I’m dead and gone to shuck heaven. That’s why you’re here.”

I shook my head. “No, Alby. Don’t you see? We’re not dead. We’re alive.”

I saw Peterson outside the alcove, typing some codes, and scenes of W.I.C.K.E.D. and the pretrials flashed across the monitor by Alby. His eyes went in and out of focus, then cleared, and he became angry. 

“What the Shuck? Thomas did this? Gally was right?” He groaned. “I hate when Gally’s right.”

Nick laughed and slapped Alby on the shoulder. “Thomas isn’t a bad shank. Saved us all, when you think about it. The simulator is a better idea than a real Maze, or else I’d be dead.”

Alby thought a moment, trying to remember. “Why can I remember some things, but not everything?”

“Just the way this thing works,” I apologized. “Some of you remember more than others.”

“I remember…” he trailed off. He shook his head as more images flashed through, and then there was a flash of green. I knew that Peterson was letting Alby remember some of his family, but I said nothing to Nick. Suddenly Alby looked very upset, and I was angry that Peterson was manipulating him in this way. 

“Knock, knock?” We all looked up to see Ben in the doorway, the picture of melancholy. “Hey, Alby.”

Guilt washed over Alby’s face. “Ben…Ben, man. I’m…I’m…”

“Don’t worry about it, Alby. Rat-Man did some crazy stuff with my head, and besides, I’m in a better place now.” Ben came over to stand next to Nick. “I would have done the same.”

Alby looked no less remorseful. “But you were my friend. You were my friend and I Banished you. For some newbie who came up with this whole idea.”

I patted his hand. “Alby, you did the right thing. I pulled Ben out before any Grievers got him.”

“Pulled him out?”

“Woke me up,” Ben offered. “She does that for us, to save us from the pain, even if this whole Maze thing is just a simulator. Last thing I remember was the Doors closing, then Jo woke me, got me out of this room. Scared the klunk out of me, to be sure. But she’s good at explaining everything, like always.”

I blushed. “I’ve been awake longer, that’s all.”

Alby asked, “Can I talk to you for a minute, Jo? In private?”

I was surprised, to say the least. Nick and Ben were his friends, why should I be talking to him alone?

Maybe it was about Newt.

As Nick and Ben closed the Door, Alby’s gaze fell upon the Simulator screen, where Newt was watching over him.

“Can you see everything that happens to us? In the Maze, in the Glade?”

I nodded, and helped him to sit up. He’d been wanting to for a while, I could tell. “Sure.”

“You saw…you saw what Newt…”

I nodded again, solemnly. “I saw. It…I tried to stop it. I did, but I couldn’t help. Peterson, he made sure Newt didn’t die. It broke my heart, still.”

“I made him promise not to do it again.”

“I know. And,” I told him, “I owe you for that. I owe you a life for keeping his secret, for saying it was a Griever that got him. And I owe you for helping him after.”

He looked pensive. I didn’t say anything more, and neither did he, for a long while. More flashes of green lit up the monitor, and with each one, Alby’s frown got deeper and deeper, his eyes more and more mournful.

Finally, he looked at me, his jaw set, his eyes unblinking. “Jo, I need to ask you for something.”

“Anything,” I assured him. “Anything you need, I owe you.”

“I don’t think I need anything in return for helping Newt. But if you feel that way…” He sighed, then said in a monotone voice, “I want you to make sure I don’t wake up.”

I gaped at him. “Alby, that means…that means you’ll—”

“I know. Die.” He rubbed his face, his expression still grievous. “She-bean, I’m remembering things I don’t want to remember. I remember this world, and I remember that it’s not one I want to live in. A life for a life. You say I helped save Newt’s life, in return I want you to take mine.”

My eyes filled with tears. “Alby…that’s suicide.”

He gave a short laugh. “Does it really seem that bad, compared to my options?”

“Alby, there’s a plan. I’m working on it, there’s a place for the Immunes to go. All of us, we’re Immunes.” Privately, I recalled that in the Simulator, Alby wasn’t Immune, but in real life, he was. Like Newt. “It’s a paradise. We can go there, start over.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to know what the real world is like.”

“We can make you forget again,” I offered. 

He shook his head again. “No. I…I don’t want to forget. But I don’t want to remember either. I want to go home, but home is gone, my family is gone. I want to see my dad. I want to see him before the Flare. I don’t want a world like it is. So give me a different one, one where I never have to fear knowing the truth.”

I was crying. “Alby, I can’t kill you.”

“A life for a life. Take mine.”

“But I don’t even know how—”

“That’s a load of klunk. You think I don’t wonder what happened to Justin? He didn’t get a second chance, did he? Creators put him to sleep, didn’t they?”

I bit my lip. “Yes,” I admitted quietly. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

He laid back down, content. “Good that, she-bean.”

 

—

 

Alby got to spend some time with Nick and Ben, while I devised how to keep him sleeping when the time came for him to wake. I wasn't going to kill him now, but if and when he ‘died’ soon, I’d be ready to carry out his request. 

I found a lethal serum that they used on Undesirables, like Justin. It was in a small vial and could be injected easily, and would be quick and painless. Alby would never wake up.

 

—

 

After Alby made it through the Changing, he sat by the Wall of names, a torch on the rocks beside him. He stared up at all the names of the boys who’d come to the Glade—and mine. His face fell at every crossed-out one, and rested the longest on Nick’s, Ben’s, Aidan’s, and finally, mine. 

He sighed. “I remember when I wanted to punish Aidan for not telling us about the Changing,” he said in a quiet rumble. No one was around; he was just having a talk to himself. Talking to himself, and talking to the ‘dead.’ “I remember when you defended him, even when I got mad at you. I remember when you defended him, and said that it was your job to keep his secret.”

He rubbed his nose. “Shuck, she-bean, we’ve hardly spoken your name. Now, Thomas comes in here, and a new girl. Teresa.” He sighed again. “She’s not like you. But she can probably keep secrets. Still, I only trust you with my secrets, like Gally was talking that day. So here I am, coming with my secrets.”

He took a deep breath. “I remember the Flare. My dad had it. I remember being scared, and I remember that when the Creators took me, I was glad. Glad to be away. Glad to leave him, because I hated seeing how he went crazy. I knew I was Immune, but…somehow that seemed even worse.”

He sat still for a while, still and quiet, as if contemplating something serious. Well, everything here was serious. But this, this was even more important. “I remember you. I remember talking to you during the Changing, just like every boy who knew you has. I remember asking you to make sure I didn’t wake up. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to leave this place. I don’t want to solve the Maze, I don’t want to understand the Maps, and I don’t want to find the way out.”

He closed his eyes. “I want the others to. I can feel myself changing, inside, and maybe I have the Flare after all. Maybe I’m going crazy. I know I just told them to protect the Maps, but now I see the truth. Now, I’m going to burn them.”

 

—

 

Newt had already hid the Map trunks in the weapons room, so they were safe and unharmed. But, the events in the Glade got more intense. I observed emotions, but the days wore on me. My own emotions were being tried, but luckily, Dr. Walberg let me know when it was time for me to go see Alby. She of course knew about everything he talked to me about, and she approved the plan I had for him. I worked for days preparing a room for him, finding bits of his past to comfort him when he was ready to…officially go to sleep, as I thought of it.

“Joan,” she whispered through the door. “I am sure you know as well as I do that Alby is about to wake up.”

I ran to the Simulator Room, stopping to watch the night scene unfold. The Doors had not closed, and the Grievers were destroying the Glade. I watched in horror as Alby ran into a pack of Grievers, sacrificing himself. I got to his bed and woke him up before he got Stung, removed is headgear, and he sat up with a start.

Upon seeing me, his stoic gaze hardened. “You made me a promise,” he growled.

“I know.” I held up the syringe that I had near his bed. “But I didn’t want the last thing for you to see to be Grievers surrounding you.” I held out my hand. “Come on. I want to show you something first.”

He reluctantly followed me, glancing only once at the screen. “So it was fake. A Simulator, just like you said.”

“Yes,” I confirmed, as I led him out of the room and to another, smaller one, that I had prepared. It was around the corner, in a different hall than my observation room, but still on the third level. “Here,” I pulled him in, turning on the lights.

He stared in awe at the wall in front of him. 

In front of him, photographs of his family, of him as a child, of happy moments of all of us kids before the Trials, were posted with small pins to the flat expanse. I covered the entire wall, showing the happy moments in his life. With each picture, his face transformed from angry to glad, to nostalgic, to loving. I saw how he admired his military father, his nurse mother. How he loved his dog, how he loved playing with action figures. He laughed at the photo of Nick tripping into the computers, and at the one of Newt and I awkwardly holding hands. There were photos of all of us making faces at Rat-Man, then making a poster with his face on it and taking turns throwing darts. Photos showed Frypan’s—at that time, Siggy’s—first meal he made, as he got practice before he went into the Maze. Photos showed Jeff, Clint, and I practicing medicine. But mostly they showed Alby’s family, and in the center, I had a video screen.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try again?” I begged, hoping he’d change his mind and release me from my promise. 

“I’m sure, she-bean.”

Ben and Nick came into the room. Alby glanced at them, tears in his eyes. He was happy, for once.

“Alby,” Nick started. “You’re not alone.”

“We’ll be right here with you,” Ben promised. 

I moved a plush chair in front of the screen. “Sit, Alby. If you’re ready.”

He looked at all of us. “Yes. I want to leave this place. Oh, and Jo,” he added, “tell Newt…tell Newt I’m sorry.”

I knew what he meant. Sorry to be giving up his life, when that was exactly what Newt had tried to do.

He sat, then I played the video. It was one that I’d created, of more photos and music he’d liked before the Maze. He watched it tearfully, Ben on his left, Nick on his right, and I easily injected the medicine to his arm. “You’ll be free soon, Alby. You’ll be with your family, back to how the world should be.”

He nodded, then fixed his gaze on the screen.

Photos of him as a baby went by, followed by ones of his parents holding him. His dad dressed him in a toddler-sized army outfit, and held him up with one arm. His mother helped him blow out birthday candles, a friend his age handed him a gift. His mother taught him piano, the same piano music that was playing now, he could remember it, I could see it on his face as his fingers moved in time with each note. He smiled. 

He smiled and drifted off, and we all sat with him, holding him, watching his life play in front of us, as it ended beside us.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( I hope that seemed like a less horrible death for our Alby. 
> 
> Additionally, I hope you like how Gally and Newt choose to react to Thomas.
> 
> Let me know!


	51. "Tell him I tried."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Maze Trials end, Jo must welcome her friends to their new lives, out of the Simulator. Not everyone is satisfied with WICKED. What will they do to interfere? What is Jo's plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Warning: A character death  
> A/N: I am summarizing a lot of these next parts, from The Scorch Trials. I want to get to more Jo/Newt stuff, and it’s not as personal just watching through screens, so I apologize.
> 
> Thanks for the comments!

 

At the end of the Maze Trials, the girls solved the Maze first. Beth was controlled by the doctors and murdered Rachel. She awoke and took back her memories, and I spent more time with her. She was forced to watch Aris, just as I watched Newt. 

Tommy helped lead the boys out of the Maze, with Teresa’s help. At the end, Gally was taken by a Griever. He woke up, and I was there for him. However, Janson immediately took control and sent Gally back to sleep, back to the Simulator, where he was being controlled.

He shot Chuck.

Gally faded in and out of consciousness, still under Janson’s control, but I rushed to Chuck. Since I was the Minder for the Gladers that awoke, Chuckie was my responsibility now. I quickly brought him to my room, and summarized what W.I.C.K.E.D. was, as per my normal program, and offered to let him watch the end of the Maze Trials with me in my room. He would get his memories back later.

I sat down on my couch, and Chuck sat beside me. The screens were showing us the Gladers, being transported away from the Maze in an old bus. I of course focused on Newt. He should have been relieved, but he was not. He looked…defeated. As if, despite the success in solving the Maze, he knew what kind of world awaited him.

That unnamed glint in his eyes was no longer there. That bothered me the most. 

“Hey, man,” Minho said, punching him on the shoulder. “We made it.”

Newt nodded. Minho turned away and congratulated Fry, but Newt looked down at his wrist, moved aside his wristband, and gazed at my name in his skin. 

“Is that for you?” Chuck asked beside me.

“Yes,” I nodded at the boy. He did not remember our conversations about Newt before he entered the Maze. “I had one, too, with his name. But…it wasn't real.”

“Oh.” Chuck squinted at the screen. “Well, looks like he thinks his is real.”

I ruffled Chuck’s hair. “It is, to him.” I focused back on the screen.

Newt sighed heavily. I almost though he might cry, but a different expression crossed his face. Something like…determination. “Never forget you, Jo,” he said quietly. “Never. You may be gone, but you’ll always be here in my heart.”

Chuck looked sideways at me. “He still loves you.”

I smiled a small smile. “And I him.”

Remembering that he was on his way to Phase Two, my smile disappeared. Only a few of the boys would survive this. I only hoped that if Newt woke up, it would be from a gentler form of ‘death.’ 

I wrapped an arm around Chuck. I hoped that if Newt were to ‘die,’ he would at least die in the arms of a friend.

 

—

 

Time passed. The Gladers were introduced to Phase Two, to Janson, and to the Scorch. My Newt was given a code name along with the rest of the kids. Ava used the note I wrote about him as his name. “The Glue.” I was still forced to watch the Simulator, but I was doing more research on Newt than anyone else. The unnamed glint never returned, which made me more and more upset, but I had more troubles that needed my attention, and I could not show that I was upset. As I soon learned, most of the boys woke up. I was there to help them, of course, when they did awake, and I had to be pleasant. After that, I had to focus. I had to track Newt’s thoughts and actions, especially regarding the Cranks. They scared me, though. It was hard, but I did not want anyone else watching Newt. If they did, they could throw in difficult variables. Newt had it hard enough, as I saw it. They all did. Aside from that, I had to catch Teresa up on what was going on at WICKED when she woke from the Simulator. She did this constantly, to act as an inside source. So did Brenda and Jorge, two major figures in the Scorch Trials. 

I worked on memorizing the codes to the Flat Trans, so that I could get us to the Paradise. Rachel helped me in this. We both wanted to secure the sanctuary, at least as a back-up, but neither of us wanted anyone to be used as the Final Candidate. I made sure Ava always had the idea in her mind, but she still wanted a Final Candidate. 

“Jo.” 

I looked up from my notes to see Gally and Nick. It was weeks after the Maze Trials ended, and my job now was to only analyze Newt’s actions and emotions in the Scorch. I got more free time, however, which I spent with my friends, or Dr. Walberg, who I now called Sandra. Despite her job being to observe me, I trusted her. In fact, when I spent time with her, it not only helped her to get first-hand information on my emotions, but she genuinely wanted to help me ensure that, in the event that there was no Cure, the Immunes would go to the paradise.

Ben was standing at the door behind them. “Guys?”

Nick took a step closer to me. “Jo, we want to go to the Right Arm. Help the Rebels.”

The Right Arm was a rebel group, centered in Denver, as for now. They were against W.I.C.K.E.D., because many of them were from families that lost kids to the Trials. Nick had informed me that his older brother was a part of it. The Rebels wanted to destroy W.I.C.K.E.D., but they had no plans for us afterwards.  
I frowned. “What about the Paradise?”

Gally crossed his arms. “It’s not a sure thing, is it?”

I shook my head, a bit frustrated. “I’m working on it. You know this.” It was a work in progress, but Rachel was helping me, and Sandra was convincing more and more doctors to go through. Peterson, who was a little sweet on her, was even agreeing to help us. They believed that the Paradise was a back-up plan for after the Cure was found, and could be open to them as well, but I knew that it was just for us. 

They played me, I played them.

Rachel wanted to come clean, but I convinced her that we had to hide our intentions from the doctors, because if they knew we were more set on the sanctuary than the Final Candidate, and that they were not a part of the sanctuary, they may not help us.

Gally nodded. “Sure. But the Right Arm is a hell of a lot more sure than your little back-up plan. Is Ava even on board?”

“I’m getting there,” I said through gritted teeth. “She’s not that cooperative, if you’ve noticed.”

Nick kneeled next to me. “We know, kiddo. Why don’t you come with us? We’ll come back to get the others soon, I already talked to my brother.”

“Your brother?” I breathed.

Nick nodded. “Alive. Wants to see you. What do you think?”

I looked at each of their happy faces, but bit my lip. “I can’t leave,” I whispered. “I can’t leave Newt. I…I wish I were there with him.”

Nick rubbed his nose. “That’s the hundredth time I’ve heard you say that.”

I watched the screen, transfixed. Newt was staring off blankly, but the simulator screen let him look straight on. Like he was looking at me. Ben nodded his head in agreement, as Nick cocked his head, deep in thought. “And you’ve been out of the simulator longer than me, so probably the two hundredth time.”

Newt’s eyes were staring into mine, almost, but he could not see me. 

“Probably two-fiftieth.”

I was hardly paying attention.

“What are they planning for him?” Gally asked sharply.

I looked down. “Not immune,” I admitted, and felt a flash of anger again, that in the Simulator, Newt would have to suffer the effects of the Flare. “After the Scorch Trials, they’ll send him to a Crank Palace. I already saw the videos they filmed for it. It’s awful. I can’t leave him there alone.”

Nick tapped my knee. “How will you help?”

“To simulate the effects of the Flare, Newt will see me.”

They all looked confused. “I don’t get it,” Ben said blankly 

“Like, a hallucination,” I clarified. “I can see him, talk to him. It resembles going mad, but at least…I can at least try to comfort him, you know?”

Nick stood, taking my in his arms. “Alright, kiddo. We’ll come back for you, then.”

“But I have an idea, if you can wait another week,” I pleaded, and they did. When they actually left, escaping in the middle of the night to a Rebel berg, which had been stolen months ago from facilities in Denver, my idea was in place. While Ben, Gally, and Nick escaped to Right Arm, I stayed behind, but we four were all connected. I had figured out how to rewire the cameras in both of my rooms, and after promising full cooperation to Sandra, she let me have my own wireless computer. With it, I worked with Gally. I had given him a controller that let him enter the Simulator when I connected his controller to my computer, and my computer to one of the monitors. Because of my good behavior and helpful brain patterns, I had been allowed a monitor that was more than just a screen: I could interfere. Nick and Ben would be able to help me control Gally’s involvement when he entered the Simulator, and could pull him out if I was caught. 

However, once those three disappeared, I was kept on a sort leash. Security increased. Many boys were brought down to lower levels to ensure parts of the Scorch Trials were ready. Some even entered into the Trials as new people. Others were simply forced to watch the Trials, and were analyzed for brain patterns. Still others were assistants, helping the doctors, or helping those who controlled the computers with keeping track of all of the kids—since both Groups were combined, it was harder to keep track. It was also hard to keep track of us, so guards were hired to escort us from room to room. It made the facility feel like a prison.

One day, as I was escorted from my cell—I mean, refurbished observation room—past the Simulator Room, I noticed one of the metal grates at the base of the wall, that allowed for the air conditioning to circulate, had come loose. It stuck out at the top, and was much wider than I expected. I pointed it out to the guards, and Peterson, who was with me. “That thing is dangerous. You need to get it fixed before someone gets hurt.”

They rolled their eyes. I heard a cackle from down the hall, and I looked up ahead to see Janson, in his white coat hands behind his back. “Who do you expect to be roaming these halls, Joan? You think someone will even have a chance to get hurt?”

I glared. “I see a hazard. I’ll fix it, if you let me.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “And let you so close to the Simulator Room, unsupervised? I think not.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. Just get it fixed.”

I was escorted back to my cell to watch and review Newt’s actions in the simulator. I noticed that the grate was still unfixed. When my guards left, I asked, “Can one of you just give me some tools, and I can fix it?”

They shook their heads. “Nope.”

“Then will you fix it?”

They left. I tried sneaking out that evening, but I was caught, and reprimanded. “It’s a shucking vent! It’s not hard to fix!” I reasoned. “Just do it, okay?”

Peterson sighed. He was one of the ones to catch me out of bed. “It’s nothing, Joan.”

I still had a funny feeling, and I did not want that problem to remain. It nagged at my mind even though I was allowed less and less time to watch the simulators. I was needed to map out which variables would help weed out the participants who were not fit to be the final candidate. 

I did not like that.

I wanted to spill my worries to someone, but I did not know who. Instead, I listened to the others’ worries. Luckily, I got to spend a lot of time with Chuck, who had long ago regained his memories. We always had lunch together, usually in my observation room

“They need to wake up,” Chuck told me suddenly, as the boys ran through the city. 

I was startled. “What?”

He pointed at the screen. “Look at them. Thomas just got a taste of some drug and now they’re stuck in that klunk of a city. They need to wake up, get out of there.”

I shook my head quickly. Of course, how many times had I wanted to wake them up? Get them out of the nightmare? “No, Chuck, that’s the same as killing them. It can’t happen, not until I’ve secured the Paradise.”

He looked at me frustratedly. “I thought you said you had it secured.”

I bit my lip. “Ava changed her mind again.”

He huffed and crossed his chubby little arms. “I think Thomas needs to wake up, get his head together. Then go back.”

“You can’t just ‘go back’ Chuck!”

“You could with the Changing,” he argued. “Maybe we can do something similar.”

“No,” I warned. “Do not. Chuck, it’s not the time okay?”

He huffed again and stared at the monitor, not talking to me anymore. I sighed and left, hoping to avoid watching my friends in the city. The Maze was one thing, the Scorch another. I was glad I was not in the Simulator for that. Instead, I went back to Ava.

“Chancellor Paige,” I began, but suddenly a red light lit up on her watch. 

“Oh, no,” she muttered, and sprinted off. I followed, until we got to the Simulator room, where the boys were sleeping. 

Chuck was in there. He had a syringe in Tommy’s left shoulder. A huge, wake-up-now serum syringe, that should not have been there.

“Pause the Simulator!” Ava shouted, and suddenly Peterson was at the monitor, and the screen in the room froze. Ava and Janson, who ran around the corner, rushed into the room. Ava yanked out the syringe and quickly fumbled in her pockets for the sedative she always had ready. While she worked to keep Thomas under, Janson pulled a kicking Chuck away from Tommy’s cot. I rushed to help, but Peterson held me back.

He pulled the young boy out of the room, shouting curses, while Chuck struggled, shouting, “This isn’t right! This isn’t right! You can’t just keep them like this!”

Janson reached his limit, and held Chuck by the collar. “You stupid little boy! How did you think you were going to help him?”

“I can save him from you!” Chuck shouted back, rage painted on his chubby little face. “You rat-faced monster!”

I knew it was going to happen before it did.

Janson shouted in fury, and threw Chuck towards the opposite wall. I reached for him as he fell, knowing exactly where he would land and wishing I could stop it.

Chuck flew to the wall, but he fell as he did, and when he hit the floor, his head hit the loose metal grate that no one had fixed, nor allowed me to fix. 

“Chuck!” I screamed, and rushed to his side.

I didn’t pay attention to Janson, or to Peterson, who had let me go. I just kneeled by the boy, as his crimson blood pooled around his head, onto the white floor, into the white wall.

Not again.

How could we lose him _, again?_

I tried to move the grate, but it didn’t budge. Instead, I moved to put Chuck’s head in my lap, and I looked into his eyes from above. “Jo?” he whispered, his eyes fading in and out of focus. 

“What is it, Chuckie?” I asked through my tears. I knew he had moments left, but this was too much. My heart was aching, tearing in half, though I did not think that was still possible. 

It was.

Chuck. The little boy who had died to save Tommy, was now dying in my arms, after—again—trying to save Tommy. Trying to save his big-brother-figure, his friend. 

“Tell him I tried.” He took his chubby little hand in mine, grasping it with the strength of a lion. I squeezed back, hoping to give him what comfort I could.

“Of course, Chuckie,” I promised. I didn’t want to lie to him. He knew he was dying, and he was at peace with it. I knew Tommy had given him false promises to comfort him, telling him he would give his carving to his mom himself, but I knew better, and I knew that Chuck didn’t want false hope. He wanted promises, he wanted peace. 

His eyes swam, his breathing slowed. The blood from his head seeped into the fabric of my clothes as I sat holding him, holding him like I would my own brother. “Jo, I see her,” he whispered.

“Who?” I asked just as quietly, stroking his lovely curls, letting my tears fall onto his cheeks.

He gave a sweet, content smile. As his eyes glazed over, I saw a light appear behind them when he told me, “My mom.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah two-fiftieth… = 250. We all know what that references. 
> 
> Also, I apologize, I cannot save everyone. :,(


	52. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo works to ensure the Paradise. In the Simulator, Newt finds out that he is not "immune." What are everyone's reactions? And how will Jo and Newt cope when Newt is taken away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Song Reference: Demons Disclaimer: All rights go to Imagine Dragons  
> Song Reference: Clocks. Disclaimer: All rights go to Coldplay
> 
> Comments are welcome! :) 
> 
> Also the dialogue matches the books, except the hushed parts referencing Jo that Tommy won't hear. Still canon!

 

Ava changed the events in the Simulator to accommodate for Chuck’s actions. Since it was not a variable, Tommy’s mind had interpreted the pain of the syringe to be the painful wound of a bullet. To compensate for his groggy waking up, where he saw Ava above him, trying to sedate him again, he saw multiple surgeons in white, telling him that he was not supposed to have been shot. He faded in and out of consciousness several times, due to an ‘infection,’ as it were.

That was probably the most painful part of the Scorch Trials for him. The worst was yet to come, and I was the one to observe it.

The emotions. 

After the Scorch Trials were over, both Groups were introduced to the next variables: Immune v. Not immune.

I begged Ava to change Newt’s fate, to not let his Simulated self have to experience the Flare. 

She did not listen. “As you so charmingly termed,” she told me, “Mr. Newton is the ‘glue.’ We want to see what happens when the glue is no longer there.”

Newt had a colorful series of emotions when he found out that he was not immune, in the Simulator of course. So did Tommy. So did I.

Newt’s name was the first to be read off from the list of simulated non-immunes. When Tommy heard it, he doubled over and stared at the floor. His emotional reaction proved how much he cared for Newt, even if he had not realized it before. 

Newt tried covering up his fear with a fake grin. “Tommy, slim yourself,” he told the dark-haired boy, crossing his arms, like he was trying to hold the pain inside of his chest, making sure he would not fall apart.

Tommy was not happy with that. “Slim myself?” Tommy almost shouted. “That old shank just said you’re not immune to the Flare. How can you—”

“I’m not worried about the bloody Flare, man,” Newt lied. I saw the fear behind his eyes. “I never though I’d still be alive at this buggin’ point—and living hasn’t exactly been so great anyways.”

Thomas stared at Newt, as if trying to decide if Newt was serious or just playing tough. He seemed to want to be tough for Newt as well, because he plastered his own fake smile on and said in a hollow voice, “If you’re cool with slowly going crazy and wanting to eat small children, then I guess we don’t cry for you.”

I glared at the screen. What empty words.

“Good that,” Newt replied, but he lost his smile. I felt tears well up in my eyes, not just over Newt, but a girl from Group B that I did not know the name of, and over Jackson. My ginger-haired Bagger was also, in this Simulation, not immune. 

Janson—who had entered the Simulation himself, rather than allowing a computer-generated version of himself be used—continued a speech about finding a cure, but Newt hardly listened, so I did not focus on Rat-man’s words, either. I focused on Newt, and the emotions that not only were visible to anyone else, but visible to me.

I saw his shallow breathing. I saw the fear in his eyes. I saw him fingering my watch, like he did when he was pensive or nervous. Well, now he was more than nervous, he was terrified. He was terrified when he was offered to get his memories back, too, and he refused the surgery.

I wish he would remember about Sonja, but since I, too, had chosen not to take my pre-Maze memories back, I had no reason to fault him for his decision. He, Tommy, and Minho all sat together, and were put in a cell together when Janson felt threatened. The day after they were told they could choose whether or not to receive their memories, Janson told them that it was mandatory.

“Look, Newt, Minho, Thomas,” he began, trying to calm the boys in their jail room. “I know how you must feel. You’ve seen some awful things. But the worst is over. We can’t change the past, can’t take back what happened to you and your…friends.” Janson’s eyes focused on Newt with those words, then flickered down to my watch, then back to Newt’s suddenly misty eyes. I could tell that Janson was referencing my ‘demise’ specifically, to trigger emotions in Newt, and Newt was responding just as he wanted. “But wouldn’t it be a waste not to complete the blueprint at this point?”

Newt held up his right wrist, pointing to my watch, and my name under it, on his skin. “Can’t take it back?” he shouted, knowing full well that Janson had known about my relationship with him. “That’s all you have to say?” He stepped to Janson, whispering angrily, so quiet that no one else could not hear, “You killed Jo and that’s all you have to say?”

“Watch yourself,” a guard told him, and Newt stepped back. His emotions were out of control, his anger more prominent then I had ever seen it. He did not even try to put up a calm front like normal, and I knew it was because the doctors had simulated more sensitive emotional reactions for him, to simulate the effects of the Flare.

It continued that way. Newt’s emotions got more and more short, and he and Minho even got into a fight. I did not like this. I did not mind that Newt was angry, but I did mind that his reactions were not his own. Even if Newt ever lost his temper, and acted like this, I would not hate him. But I hated W.I.C.K.E.D. for increasing the intensity of his reaction, making it so that this was how he acted.

I cried when he wrote a note to Tommy, asking him to kill him. I knew it was because of the promise he made to Alby so long ago. After his attempted suicide. Alby requested, I remembered with a pang, _“Promise me, that no matter how bad this life gets, if I die, if you lose that whole shucking leg, hell, even if we never find our way out of here and you start going shucking insane, I want you to promise that you won’t kill yourself. Get someone else to do it. Not you. Okay? For me? For Jo?”_

Newt was going insane. But he still remembered his friend, and he still remembered his oath. So, he would not take his own life. No, he asked Tommy to do it for him, but in a note, saying, “You swear to me that you won’t read what’s in that bloody envelope until the time was right.”

Newt’s emotions were over the top. I was shocked that he was as calm as he was, especially when Tommy tried to pull out the envelope right then. His emotions were also on fire. “When the time is right?” Tommy whined. His eyes were wide and worried. “How will I—”

“You’ll bloody know!” Newt interrupted, before Tommy could finish his question. His body was trembling with fear and anger—which was only a coverup for his fear. Anger was always a coverup for something else. “Now swear to me. Swear it!”  
“Fine!” Tommy promised, giving in. He was so worried, I could tell. “I swear I won’t read it until the time is right. I swear,” he said firmly. “But why—”

“Okay then,” Newt nodded. “Break your promise,” he threatened, eyes hard, “and I’ll never forgive you.”

 

—

 

Tommy, Newt, and Minho escaped from W.I.C.K.E.D. in the Simulator. Ava thought about pausing and adding variables to change that, but in the end, she wanted to see how they, Brenda, and Jorge would react out in the ‘real world.’ When they got to Denver, I interfered.

Gally. 

Using the technology linking him to the Simulator, through the chip in his head, I got him into the Simulation. It was not a planned variable, and it would mess up what the scientists were up to. Peterson was trying to speed up the Trials, but Ava was working against him. I took advantage of the time they wasted on arguments to influence the Simulation, but not enough to where they would suspect me. 

That day, I positioned a letter for Tommy to find. It lead him to Gally, much to W.I.C.K.E.D.’s shock. They did not think it was possible. It caused an uproar, but I was never caught. Ava deduced that Tommy’s mind had brought Gally back as an emotional response to the horror of the real world, but I knew better.

Gally got Tommy’s mind disconnected from W.I.C.K.E.D. in the Simulator, and because it was supposed to seem real, W.I.C.K.E.D. was forced to let it be. Ava was no longer able to control Tommy’s mind. He was never controlled, never denied free will, and never manipulated. 

We did it. 

I did it.

However, to accommodate for the loss of power, the doctors inserted another variable.

Newt was caught while hiding in the Berg, and taken away, to a Crank palace.

Alone.

 

—

 

“Joan?” 

I looked up from my knees. I had spent the last hour crying, since I was locked in my observation room, and unable to interfere. When I tried to use the computer to calm Newt down, I found that the controls were overridden. Apparently, my emotional reaction was just as important as Newt’s, and it was more important for me to see the real pain, without any sugarcoating. I, however, was unable to watch Newt be carried away, into the Crank Palace, and instead shoved myself up in the corner of the room, under the desk. Of course, the screen covered the wall, and I could still see it. All other scenes disappeared, so that I only saw Newt. I tried to cover my eyes, or turn my face to the wall, but Newt’s unnerving silence as he was being led away forced me to watch the events.

Sandra opened the door. I barely saw her from my hideaway, but saw her nonetheless. A set of keys were in her hands, proving that I had, indeed, been locked in. 

“Why,” I begged, my voice hoarse. “Why are you doing this?”

She made her way across the room and kneeled down next to me. “Tests, Joan,” she explained gently. “You know this. Your emotions, and his, are extremely important.”

“Our emotions are torturing us!” I accused. I nodded at the screen. “You’re increasing his. What about me? Did you give me some drug to increase my pain?”  
She shook her head. “See, Joan? That’s what I mean. Your emotions are genuine and intense just as they are.”

I stared as Newt was dumped off by the guards, in a particularly unfriendly spot in the Crank Palace. It was an old bowling alley, with a sign that no longer had words, just scratches of color. “Well, I hurt _immensely,_ ” I spat. “You should be very proud of yourselves.”

Newt poked around the area and found an empty room. He went inside and shut the door, then closed his eyes.

His lovely eyes.

“You want to talk to him?” Sandra asked.

My breath hitched. “What?”

She held out her hand. “The Flare makes you insane. Insane people sometimes have hallucinations, don’t they?”

My eyes widened. “You mean…”

She nodded. “You can talk to him. You can even enter in the Simulator again. See him.”

I felt my heart leap, then drop. “Will it hurt him?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But it could also help him. He deserves a chance, don’t you think?”

 

— 

 

How could I do this?

I laid in a cot next to Newt. Sandra was busy attaching tubes and computer wires to me, while I went back and forth in my head, wondering if this would hurt or help Newt. It had been so long since I had talked to him. What would I say? How would he react? How would I leave? 

I bit my lip. I could be with Newt, but he would think he was going mad. He _was_ going mad, in the Simulator. 

“Ready?” Sandra asked, and I nodded hesitantly. “Lay down,” she requested, and I did. “You will have around ten minutes,” she said, and my vision blurred. 

 

—

 

Dim light illuminated the corner room of the old building he was hidden in. There was a sickly yellow glow, cast by the dying lamp hanging from the ceiling. The yellow wallpaper was peeling apart, and I almost saw my own reflection in its shining colors. I looked down at what I was wearing, and saw my old Glade clothes: My dark green three-quarter shirt, brown pants, and brown boots. My brown hair was in a long side braid. I was not wearing my watch, however, but I supposed that was because Newt was wearing it.

Newt.

He was huddled in the corner, eyes to his knees, as I was in my room just minutes ago. I wanted to hug him, comfort him, tell him that it was not real, but Sandra had told me that I could not tell him the truth, only comfort him.

I approached him. The air was damp and stale, and I was disgusted by the fact that Newt was forced to live here. 

I sat by his side, looking at his tear-stained face, hidden by his knees.

“Hello, Newt,” I whispered.

His head snapped up, and his watery eyes shined when he saw me. He stared for a good minute, not sure how to react. “Jo?” His voice was dripping with emotion, but not anger or fear. Just relief, and love.

“I’m here, Newt,” I told him. “I’m here.”

He reached for me, but his hand passed right through my body. I realized that I was supposed to represent a hallucination, and, like a ghost, was not solid. His face fell when he understood this as well, but I hurried to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Newt. I’m real. I mean, I’m…”

“A spirit?”

Something told me to nod. “That’s one way to put it,” I allowed. 

He sniffled. “I’m going mad, Jo. I’ve got the Flare.”

I grimaced. “I know. But you can see me more often, if you'd like.”

His face lit up again. “Yeah?”

I shrugged. “But you have to tell me, Newt,” I told him sternly, “and be honest. Does seeing me hurt you? Or does it help?”

“Helps,” he answered without hesitation. “If I have to go mad, I want you here. I asked Tommy to…”

“I know,” I said quietly. “I know.”

“Jo, I didn’t want…I didn’t want to go insane from the Flare. I didn’t want these demons inside me. Are they inside me? Can you see them? Look in my eyes, are they hiding in my eyes?”  
I stared into his lovely, misty brown eyes. I saw fear there, just like before. But now, I saw something that had been missing for months now: The unnamed glint. That unidentifiable shining in his eyes, it was there now. What was it? I never knew.

“No,” I told him. “There are no demons in your eyes.”

He huffed. “For once, love, I do not believe you. Think about it. Everything’s gone to hell. All of the dreams we had? Failed. You _died_ , Jo. I couldn't save you from that bloody Griever!”

I cried out. My voice breaking, I nearly pleaded with him, saying, “That was not your fault and you know it!” Shuck I wanted him to know it was not real! I did not want to hide the truth from him. I knew that this ‘vision’ was to help him, but he seemed more concerned of his past than on getting through this. I just wanted to protect him from the horrors of this Crank palace, but…he thought that he was the monster here.

He continued, strained. “I let you down, Jo! And now? Now I’m hell bound. You seen this place? You seen these Cranks? I’ll become just like one of them. Now you’re here, and I can’t hide the truth of this from you. I can’t shelter you from this disease of mine.”

“Do you want me to go?”

He reached for my hand in a flash, but it was not touchable. “No,” he pleaded. “There may be a beast inside me…demons in my eyes. But, I…I don’t want hide the truth from you. This is the best I’ll get.”

“It’s what you make of it,” I insisted gently. 

He gave a curt laugh. “It’s up to fate, Jo. I can’t escape this now.”

I let out a sob. “I can show you how.”

He looked at me, crying as I was. “Alright then,” he smiled. “I would rather you were here with me. I would rather that you show me how to escape these demons.” He looked hungrily into my eyes. “Your eyes are so bright,” he mused.

“Then I’ll see you soon,” I said, and smiled back.

 

—

 

I woke easily. Sandra was grinning, her olive eyes shining, as she unhooked the tubes. “There now, how was that?”

I sat up. In spite of the circumstances, I was overjoyed to have talked to Newt. I mean, I actually talked to him. Directly. To my Newt. Even if was as a hallucination, through using the Simulator. “Nice,” I admitted quietly.

“You can talk again tomorrow,” Sandra told me. “Until then, get some rest. Early bedtime.”

I got out of the cot and slowly walked towards the door. As I did, I passed Newt, asleep on his cot. 

He was so pale. Nothing like the tanned boy I fell in love with. His arms were thin, with hardly any muscle like he’d had in the Maze, and throughout the recent trials. He was not as strong or toned as he should have been. He would not have been able to carry me. His hugs would not have been strong. In fact, his body was nowhere near the fit Runner’s body he was when I was with him.

And I did not care at all.

I did not care about his bulging biceps, or lack of. I was not concerned with toned legs, or thin ones. I did not care about if he could carry me, or if he could hardly stand. 

I did not care about that.

I cared about Newt, with the caring heart, and charming personality. I cared about the way he wanted to take care of everyone. I cared about how he was the glue that kept everyone together, and how he never gave up on his friends. I cared about how he stayed true to his promises, and how he, despite this disease, never forgot who he loved.

“Joan?”

  
I started, apologized, then left to my room. That night, I had dreams of sleeping in his arms.

 

—

 

The next day, I visited Newt again. In between visits, I worked with Gally and the rebels to interfere with the Simulator, and I got them in control of their own interference. With their influence, and Tommy’s free will, things progressed. Rachel delivered the good news that the passage to the paradise was ready in case we needed it.

We had succeeded.

We had got us a paradise, and Nick, Gally, and Aidan informed me that they were with the rebels, who were planning to attack W.I.C.K.E.D. facilities soon, and would drop them here. That way, we could all escape.

Rachel and I organized supplies to be brought through the Flat Trans for us, including clothes, farming tools, medical supplies, and animals. Lots and lots of animals. We would have sheep, to give us wool, and cows, go give us milk and meat. We also had some building equipment to start out. Remembering the time in the Glade, I also requested hundreds of books to be brought through, not only for instructions and information regarding things like building and medicine, but of our history, and of scientific theories, and even a few popular stories.

We were ready.

We defeated W.I.C.K.E.D., if only by ensuring we had somewhere to go when they were finished with us. We secured our freedom. I had worked with my friends, my allies, to save all of the Immunes, and in doing so, I gained confidence. I was my own independent young woman and while I was under the iron hand of the doctors and scientists, I was not _fully_ under that hand. I was my own person, and I had found us a home. For us. Not for the doctors. Not for the people who tortured us. For the Immunes. Sure, my emotions were being abused for science, but even so, I had given us a second chance, for when we needed it.

For now, I could focus on helping Newt. 

I was much more happy when seeing him, knowing that we had a real future. That we all had a real future, where we could make a difference. I saw him two or three times each day, for five days. Then, for two days straight, I was not allowed to visit him. After those two days, exactly one week after the first night, Peterson was the one to bring me to the Simulator Room. He was far more pleasant than normal, but I was not that interested. No, I was worried about Newt. Without seeing me, he became upset. Now, this had been an especially rough day for him, as I knew. He was attacked by other Cranks, and was exhausted from defending himself. 

Newt had been moved to an alcove, like where the Changing victims were during the Maze Trials, so long ago.

Peterson informed me that Newt would be half-waking this time, rather than my going to sleep. I sat in a chair near his cot, and took his hand. Peterson nodded to me and wrapped the curtain around the cubicle, so Newt would not see anything else other than the white and me. On the monitor above his head, where he could not see, I saw simulator-Newt fall asleep, hidden in the same corner of the rickety building, the one with the fades sign outside. Real-Newt, lying on the cot, with headgear encompassing his skull and tubes hooked to various parts of his body, stirred. His eyes opened slowly, and I knew he was blurring the lines between awake and asleep.

“Jo?” he croaked. I suspected that he was confused to see me in his dreams, rather than in his awake state.

I nodded, taking his hand. “Hello, Newt,” I greeted with a sad smile. I remembered when I had talked to him his first night in the crank Palace. He was so scared, and now he just seemed depressed. 

“Jo I want this to be over,” he pleaded. “I wish someone would kill me, so I could be done with this bloody life.”

I shook my head. I could not let on that this was a Simulator, that this was a test. “Not yet, Newt,” I told him, wishing I could say something else. 

He reached his hand to stroke my cheek. “But I miss you, love. I want to see you.”

“I’m right here.”

He frowned. “No, love, not like this. I don’t want to see you in my Flare dreams, or from my Flare hallucinations. I have my memories of you, and your name, and your wristband, but I want you. The real you.”

His words tore at my heart. He didn’t even know that I was real, and I was forbidden to tell him. “Newt, I’m always with you,” I promised through my sudden tears. “I’m always watching, trying to help.”

He wiped away the tears. “I know, love, I know. But if only I could hold you…”

 _That_ I could do. Not when I was a hallucination, but now? Now I could. I carefully moved to lay by his side, letting him wrap one arm around me, as I rested my head on his shoulder. 

“This feels familiar,” he breathed into my hair. I held him tighter, missing how we slept side by side in the Glade just as much as he did. “This was how I got away from that constant confusion of the Glade, you know. Life was always run by those closing Doors, and the ticking clocks that told us when to come back.”

Shuck, I just wanted him to wake up. I wanted him to come home to me! I wanted to save him from this trouble, but I could not tell him about what the Simulator was. Was this really helping him, seeing me? Was I curing him? Or was I just a part of his Flare, his horrible, simulated disease?

We just laid there, together, surrounded by the white curtains and walls. I wanted to tell him that everything would be fine, to tell him that it wasn’t real, but I knew I could not. 

I could wait. I could settle for this.

“Never forgotten you, love,” he murmured. “Even with this buggin’ Flare, I never forgot you.”

I laced my fingers through his, saying, “I know.” That was my one consolation, that I could help him through this hell, if not always by these dreams, but by the memories. 

“Never will,” he swore, and fell asleep. His time with me was up, but I did not want to leave his sleeping form yet.

“Jo,” Peterson whispered through the curtain. “Up, now.”

Reluctantly, I left him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, reference to “The Yellow Wallpaper”
> 
> Hope you liked! Let me know in the comments.


	53. Flares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt is in the Crank Palace. How does Jo help him out in his final days in the Simulator? How does she guide him through, when Tommy and Minho come see him? Will she be able to send him a sign when he needs it most?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> A/N: I post by Friday nights, as long as everything goes well. Only a few chapters left! Hope you'll stay with me, and Jo and Newt. 
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: page 250  
>  A/N: SORRY  
>  Also if you want to reference:   
>  My Chapters:   
>  \- 32 Star Maps  
>  \- 44 Jumped Right Off
> 
>  
> 
> TDC pages: starting with 183, then 244. This story is framed, and everything in the books is still canon. I add in what Jo sees.
> 
> Reference to the song “Flares” by the Script. I do not own this song, all rights go the the Script, but I just reference some of those lyrics, since it is Newt’s song ;) Also a bit of a play on the “Flare” disease name.

 

“No,” I whimpered, as Newt was surrounded by a posse of gangster cranks. It was two days after his first fight, and now he was forced into this one.

“That’s a nice little bracelet you got there,” the leader, Boss as his cronies called him, said, pointing to the leather wristband Newt wore. The one he made for me, the one that covered the branding of my name.

Newt growled. “So what if it is.”

Boss took a step closer. “So hand it over, punk.”

Newt’s face flashed in anger. “Not gonna happen.”

Boss’s men each moved forward, closing the circle around Newt. “I said hand it over.”

Newt held up his wrist. “I made this for the love of my life, and she’s dead. I’m not giving it up, not to W.I.C.K.E.D, not to you, not to anyone.”

I took a sharp breath in. “Newt,” I whispered. I missed him. I wished I wasn’t gone, I wished he wasn’t made into a Crank. “I wish I was there with you.”

I huddled into the couch, feeling guilty that I was able to watch this scene as if it were from a movie. Me, in relatively favorable comfort, removed from the situation. Newt, in a living hell, stuck in a nightmare. Yet I still felt such deep emotions when I saw him, and I hurt worse, even, then I would have been if I were there.

Such is the burden of those on the outside.

I wondered if anyone from W.I.C.K.E.D. felt this way. I wondered if they felt guilt. But then again, they deserved to feel it, putting the participants through these horrors. Letting Newt get jumped, letting Newt get beat up by the Boss. The crazed man had leapt onto Newt, pinned him to the ground, and now kept punching his face, drawing blood, leaving bruises, and not even reaching for the wristband. 

I leapt up from my seat. I did not care if I was supposed to remain in this observation room, I was leaving. I was going to stop this fight, if I could not get Newt out of the Palace.

I slowly opened my door, looked both ways, and saw a guard at each end of the hall.

Shuck.

Ava was having me watched, so I would not do anything. 

“Joan?” Peterson asked. I jumped, not having realized he was in the room next to me. “What are you thinking?”

I turned to him, glaring. “Newt is in a fight.”

Peterson nodded, a sick smile on his face. “Yes.”

“So, can we stop it? Can I talk to him?  
Peterson shook his head. “Nope. Back in your room.”

I felt a sudden chill run through me. This meant I was being watched for my emotional responses. I lunged at Peterson, but a guard appeared behind me, grabbing my waist, pushing me back into my room.

I was forced to watch the end of the fight. Luckily, Newt escaped without too much injury, and he even had the watch. Later on, he even made a few Crank allies, due to his winning of the fight. They offered to bring him with when they tried to break out, which would be in a few days. I huddled up at the base of my couch, on the floor, chin on my knees. On the screen, Newt, in his corner of the yellow room, lifted the leather cover on the wristband to reveal the small clock inside. It was frozen like always, frozen at the time and minute I ‘died.’ He stared at the face of it for a while, as if remembering the time that had passed since the Glade. Or, at least, that was what I thought, but then he shifted the leather cords down his wrist until the scar of my name was visible. 

So he was thinking of me.

“What do I do, Jo?” he murmured. “How do I get through this, alone? I just want it to be over. I want this done, so I don’t have to feel myself go mad.”

My heart went out to him. I reached for him, but he was on a screen, and I was locked in my room, forced to watch him in this agony.

He bit down hard on his lip and angrily ran his fingers through his hair. “Bloody hell, Jo,” he moaned, closing his eyes against the pain, “I wish I’d died with you!” Then his body was wracked with sobs, and bitter tears began falling from his eyes, dropping onto the open face of the frozen clock, making the metal shine in the dim light.

He sat like that for what seemed like forever, staring at my name, or else closing his eyes against it. “I’m scared, Jo,” he confessed, speaking into the cloth of his short to muffle the sound, “I’m scared I’ll lose my memories. All of our precious moments, I’m scared I’ll forget them. Scared I’ll forget you.” He sobbed harder and shoved his face to his knees, then wrapped his arms around his legs, curled up, and rocked back and forth. “I never want to see this name on my skin and not know why it’s there.”

I felt tears moisten my cheeks, and my fingers dusted over the spot where I had burned Newt’s name into my skin, only it was not there anymore. 

“Jo I wish I were dead,” he wailed into his knees, as my chest tightened and my heart threatened to shatter, “I wish I were _dead_.”

 

—

 

“What are you trying to do to him?” I screamed as Peterson dragged me away.

Ava did not even blink. “It’s a variable, Joan,” she told me, and then the door cut her off.

I was not thinking straight anymore. After seeing Newt in the simulator, wishing he was dead, I had run to Ava’s office, after breaking the lock on my door, and punching past the guards. They were strong, but I was tiny and quick, and driven by concern for _my Newt._ I demanded to know her reasons for making Newt suffer. At first, I was calm, but that quickly transformed into anger. Once I began shouting, she demanded for Peterson to take me back to my room.

So I could take notes on Newt’s behavior.

I hated this torture, but the less I cooperated, the more tests they would give to the other subjects, and that included Newt. More fights, more pain.

When I was less than cooperative, Peterson tied me down. I was brought to another room I’d never been to, with a chair facing the screen on the wall. He used a metal headset to force my gaze to the screen, and fixed a camera on my eyes. If I ever closed them for more than a blink, a new wristband on my right hand shocked me. I was literally forced to watch Newt for hours straight, until I finally calmed down, and even then I was not released from the bonds and the iron keeping me secure.

I watched as a guard tried to pull Newt out of his small yellow room and into the bowling alley. Its lanes were torn up, and many other Cranks found refuge there. Some hid in corners, some huddles in sleeping bags, and others stared at the wall in a Daze. They were using Bliss, a drug that only the rich could afford.

I shuddered, knowing that these scenes had actually been filmed for Newt’s use at the real Palace.

The guard took over Newt’s room, so he was forced to find his own refuge in the bowling alley, but when the guard tried to take his wristband, Newt attacked. 

“Leave it alone!” he spat wildly. Spit flew from his mouth and he began punching the guard nonstop. “Why—” _Punch_. “Can’t—” _Punch_. “You people—” _Punch, punch._ “Just _leave_ it alone?” 

Two guards drug Newt away, but he stole a Launcher from the guard he had beaten up. He held it up towards the others. “Get away from me,” he growled, “or I’ll shoot.”

They left him there. He retreated to a side of the Alley, his back to the door. He cuddled the Launcher up in his arms, protecting it with the strength he had.

“Joan?”

I heard the door to the prison-like observation room open, but I was secured down so that my head could not turn from the screen. Sandra walked into my vision, eyes apologetic.

“I hate you,” I spat, meaning not her, but all of W.I.C.K.E.D. She did not respond, but released me instead. I was shocked.

“It is more advantageous for us if, in your raw stage, and in Newt’s raw stage, you two see each other.”

I stood up, wanting to get as far away as possible from the bonds that held me down. “What if I refuse?”

“I don’t think you would want to,” she said gently. “You see, Thomas, Minho, Jorge, and Brenda are on their way to see Newt now. If you are there, you can help calm him down. If you are not…Do you really want him to attack his friends?”

I pursed my lips, but hesitantly agreed. 

 

—

 

I woke up to the Bowling Alley. Sandra had wanted me to appear to Newt as a hallucination, and so I did. She told me how Tommy had not yet looked at Newt’s note, so he was unaware of Newt’s desperate final wish.

Great.

I approached Newt, who was still cradling his stolen Launcher. “Newt?” I asked, knowing that no one else would be able to hear me. They were not even real, not in this simulation. They were just there as props. 

He looked up. “Wondered when I’d see you again, love. What took so long? I missed you.”

I sat by his side, wishing I could hold him. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “It was not my choice.”

He sighed. “Suppose it’s me, isn’t it? Or, this buggin’ disease.”

I said nothing. I took in the sadness in his eyes, the length of his—much longer—blond hair, the way he slumped. “Newt,” I began, seeing Tommy, Minho, Brenda, and Jorge with some guards in the doorway of the bowling alley. They looked nervous. Tommy was sweating fiercely, holding Brenda’s hand as if it were a life raft. Minho looked determined. They all noticed Newt immediately, though he could not see them. “You have some friends here to see you.”

His breath hitched. “Tommy? Minho?”  
I nodded. 

Newt’s eyes blazed with anger. Without turning around, he shouted, “I told you bloody shanks to get lost!”

“Newt!” I hissed. “They came to see you!”

He gave me a sharp glare, telling me to hush.  

Minho stepped forward. “We have to talk to you,” he insisted firmly. He stepped over a skinny woman, lying on her side, to get closer to us. Well, to Newt. 

“Newt,” I told him, “Minho’s almost to us.”

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned Minho, still not turning around. I was acting as his eyes. “Those thugs brought me here for a reason,” he said quietly, though his voice was filled with menace. He was doing well. Staying calm. “They thought I was a bloody Immune holed up in that shuck Berg.” He gave a short, sarcastic laugh that only I could hear. “Imagine their surprise when they could tell I ad the Flare eating my brain. Said they were doing their civic duty when they dumped me in this rat hole.”

Minho was quiet, his face pained beyond anything I had ever seen. Tommy said loudly, “Why do you think we’re here, Newt?” His face was pleading. “I’m sorry you had to stay back and got caught. I’m sorry they brought you here. But we can break you out,” he promised. Newt’s eyes flashed, but Tommy could not see, so he continued, “It doesn't look like anyone gives a klunk who comes or goes.”

“Newt,” I whispered, “stay calm, please.”

He slowly twisted around to face his old friends. Their eyes widened when they saw his Launcher.

“Whoa there,” Minho cautioned, holding out his hands and stepping back, barely not stepping on the woman behind him. “Slim it nice and calm. There’s no need to point a shuck Launcher at my face while we talk.” His eyes focused on the weapon. “Where’d you get that thing, anyway?”

I moved around to Newt’s side, so he could still see me. He glanced at me, then at my watch. Minho saw the second glance and made the connection when Newt said, “I stole it. Took it from a guard who made me…unhappy.”

Minho’s eyes were full of pity. He looked again at the watch, as if surprised it was, in fact, still there after all this time.

Newt’s finger was shaking precariously over the Launcher trigger. “Newt,” I said, “be careful. Don’t hurt them. They came all this way to rescue you!”

He sighed. “I’m…I’m not well. Honestly, I appreciate you buggin’ shanks coming for me. I mean it. But this is where it bloody ends.”

“Calmly,” I said.

He nodded at me. “This,” he told his friend, “is when you turn around and walk back out that door, and head for your Berg and fly away. Do you understand me?”

Minho became frustrated, and his voice showed it. “No, Newt, I don’t understand,” he countered. “We risked our neck to come to this place and you’re our friend and we’re taking you home. You wanna whine and cry while you go crazy, that’s fine. But you're gonna do it with us, not with these shuck Cranks.”

“Go with them, Newt,” I encouraged. 

Newt leaped to his feet in a flash. “I _am_ a Crank, Minho!” he yelled, pointing the Launcher at Minho’s chest. “I _am_ a Crank! Why can’t you get that through your bloody head? If you had the Flare and knew what you were about to go through, would you want your friends to stand around and watch?”

“Newt,” I tried, but I could sympathize with him. I would not have wanted my friends to see me go mad, either.

“Huh? Would you want that?” Newt turned to face Tommy, and I knew exactly what was about to happen. “And _you_ , Tommy.” His voice lowered, filled with hatred and disgust. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here and asking me to leave with you. A lot of bloody nerve.” His eyes narrowed, hatred masking the hurt from betrayal. “The sight of you makes me sick.”

Tommy’s face fell, and in his eyes, I saw his pain. It was as if he had been stabbed, I knew, and because he had not read Newt’s note, he was oblivious to why Newt was so angry.

Why had Tommy not read the shucking note? I wondered, angry myself. What was he waiting for? The right time had come and gone, when Newt was caught and captured. 

“What are you talking about?” Tommy begged. 

Newt had the Launcher pointed at the dark-haired boy. 

I stepped in between then, only visible to Newt. “Newt, he didn’t read it,” I told him. “He doesn’t know about your request. He didn't think the time was right, yet, please Newt, don’t hurt him. He doesn’t know.”

Newt stilled, shocked. “It’s true,” I assured him. “Trust me.”

His eyes suddenly softened, and he lowered the Launcher. I sighed, relieved, and stepped to his side, still with him, but no longer blocking his view. He looked at the floor, guilty.

“Newt,” Tommy persisted quietly, “I don’t get it. Why are you saying all this?”

Newt glanced at me. I gave him a reassuring smile, and he lifted his face to look at his friends again, all of the bitterness gone from his eyes. “I’m sorry, guys,” he apologized. “I’m sorry. But I need you to listen to me. I’m getting worse by the hour and I don’t have many sane ones left. Please leave.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but Newt held up his hands. “No! No more talking from you.”

“Gently,” I reminded Newt. If he wanted to be left alone, I would support him.

“Just…” he continued. “Please. Please leave. I’m begging you. I’m begging you to do this one thing for me. As sincerely as I’ve ever asked for anything in my life, I want you to do this for me.”

“Your allies,” I suggested. “They’ll be more comfortable if you tell them you’re escaping. When was that going to take place?”

“There’s a group I’ve met that are a lot like me,” he told them, “and they’re planning to break out and head for Denver later today. I’m going with them.”

“Good,” I urged gently. “Keep going.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Newt sighed sadly, “but I can’t be with you guys anymore. It’s gonna be hard enough for me now, and it’ll make it worse if I know you have to witness it. Or worst of all,” he stressed, “if I hurt you. So let’s say our bloody goodbyes and then you can promise to remember me from the good old days.”

“I can’t do that,” Minho said. Then, in a whisper, he said, only for Newt—and me—to hear, “Jo would have—”

“Shuck it!” Newt yelled. “Do you have any clue how hard it is to be calm right now? I said my piece and I’m done. Now get out of here! Do you understand me? Get _out_ of here!”

I watched in horror as a Crank poked Tommy in the shoulder. The boy turned to see a group of Cranks there. They were not Newt’s allies, but they were ones who also lived in the bowling alley. The one in front, a man with long, greasy hair and a strong chest, poked Tommy in the chest. “I believe our new friend asked you people to leave him alone.”

“This is none of your business,” Tommy replied. “He was our friend way before he came here.”

The Crank slicked his hair back. “That boy’s a Crank now, and so are we. That makes him our business. Now leave him… _alone_.”

“Hey, psycho,” Minho said sharply, “maybe your ears are clogged with the Flare. This is between us and Newt. _You_ leave.”

The man scowled, then brought up a hand, showing s bloody shard of glass in his grasp. “I was hoping you’d resist,” he snarled sickeningly. “I’ve been bored.”

“No!” I shrieked, as a fight broke out. Tommy was almost his with the glass, but before the Crank could slice him, Brando swatted the man’s hand, sending the glass flying. Minho tackled him to the ground, landing on the skinny woman. 

“Newt! Do something!” I screamed at him, wishing I were more than a hallucination, wishing I could interfere.

He waved his arms. “Stop it! Stop it now!” 

“Launcher,” I reminded him furiously. 

He held up the weapon, nodding his thanks at me. His eyes went wild as he saw his friends in danger. “Stop or I’ll start shooting and not give a buggin’ piece of klunk who gets hit.”

The man with greasy hair stood, untangling himself from Minho and the woman. He kicked the woman in the ribs for good measure, and I snarled, furious that he try to hurt her.

Newt saw my fury, and must have felt it too, because the next thing I knew, he had used his Launcher to shoot the man.

Everyone looked back at Newt as the man lay writhing on the ground. “I told him to stop,” Newt half whispered. Arms shaking, he pointed the weapon reluctantly at Minho. “Now you guys leave. No more discussion. I’m sorry.”

Minho held up his hands. “You’re going to shoot me? Old pal?”

“Newt, it’s Minho,” I said.

“Go. I asked nicely. Now I’m telling.” Newt’s voice broke. “This is hard enough. Go.”

“Newt,” Minho pleaded, “let’s go outside…”

“Go!” Newt shouted, taking a step forward and readjusting his hold on the weapon. “Get out of here!” 

Tommy’s eyes watered over, and he said mournfully, “Let’s go. Come on.”

Minho’s angry gaze snapped to Tommy. He looked like his heart had been shattered. “You can’t be serious.”

Tommy nodded, and Newt relaxed. 

“Newt,” I asked, “Are you sure?”

Newt nodded at me. “I don’t want them to see this,” he breathed. 

Minho’s shoulders fell, and his gaze drifted to the floor. “How did the world get so shucked?” 

“Newt, he’s hurting,” I said, seeing the emotional pain radiating from Minho.

Newt’s eyes flowed over with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m…I’m going to shoot you if you don’t go. Now.”

Tommy grabbed Brenda’s hand, then Minho’s bicep, and pulled them both to the doorway. No one looked back.

Newt put lowered the Launcher, as Jorge gave one last look. He nodded sadly at Newt, then looked directly at me.

He could see me.

I gasped. I knew that Brenda and Jorge knew that this was a Simulator. They were a part of W.I.C.K.E.D., they knew about me, they probably knew I was here the whole time.

Jorge saluted us, then followed the other three out the exit.

I turned to Newt, eyes worried. I knew he was not okay, so I did not ask. Instead, I asked, “How can I help you right now?”

He sank to the floor, and I sank with him, as the Launcher fell forgotten to his side. He began sobbing. “Just…I just don’t want them hurt, Jo,” he explained, but he did not have to explain to me.

“I know,” I whispered.

Newt pulled aside his wristband to reveal my name. “Bloody hell,” he murmured. “I’m forgetting what it used to be like with them, I’m forgetting everything, everything but you, Jo. I still have your memory and this bloody scar, but…” He sighed, putting his head in his hands. “I lost you, Jo,” he groaned. “I lost you and you couldn’t ever come back. You couldn't return to me. I loved you, and I still love you.”

I wanted to take his hand. I tried, but my skin passed through his. “And I love you,” I assured him with feeling. My emotions were as deep as his. “That flame of love? It never goes out. It will always burn inside me, as it will in you. Use it, Newt. Use it to guide you, just like how that star we made up guided you in the Maze.”

He smiled, remembering when we mapped out our constellations. “Compass Star.”

I nodded. I reached again for his hand, and somehow, I could, if I was very still, touch him. Maybe it was because our emotions were so intense, but so connected.

“Jo,” he said, his voice breaking, “I’m all alone. It’s so lonely here, and I’m alone, and you know what? No one cares anymore, Tommy didn’t care, Minho didn’t care…” He was sobbing so hard, I knew it was hard for him to breathe.

“No,” I mused, squeezing his hand, “You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m always here,” I promised. “Don’t lose hope on me, Newt.”

He quieted a bit. “I _am_ leaving this _bloody_ place today, with the other Cranks. We’re busting out.”

“I know,” I reminded him. “And I’ll help you once you’re out. I’ll send out some stars for you, to guide you to another place.”

“Stars?” he repeated.

“Flares. Sparks, stars, flares, something that will let you know I’m out there, helping you, guiding you.”

“Alright,” he agreed in a whisper, and then the scene in front of me went dark, indicating that I was waking up.

 

—

 

Newt had escaped the Crank Palace, just as planned. As the posse of cranks ventured onto the streets, I realized that they were not too far from the highway that Tommy would be using to travel on. He was on his way back to W.I.C.K.E.D., with the rebels. Nick was working with the events. I thought, if I could get Newt and Tommy together…I knew Tommy wanted to make amends. I knew Newt wanted to see him. 

I contacted Nick and explained my plan. I had been given back computer controls in my room, and been allowed to influence events surrounding Newt. I refused to mess with free will, but I could, with Newt, make sure that the timing of certain events was right. With the computer at my fingertips, I started sending out flares into the sky by the highway, to capture the Cranks’ attention. 

“What are you doing?” Peterson demanded, bursting into the room and shoving me away from the computer. 

“I want him to know he’s not alone,” I growled. “I promised him some sparks in the sky, to lead him to where he needed to go. That gave him hope.”

He threw me against the wall, and I could see fury in his eyes. “Hope? You’re so against these Trials, Joan, how can you talk about hope? You think I have any hope? I’m the one who’s going crazy! Why don’t you give me some hope, some cure?”

I was taken aback. Peterson hadn’t voiced his fears before. He was rough now, like he was when Newt jumped, but now it was so much harder for me to be angry with him. “I’m sorry,” I cried genuinely, “It isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just how it is, there’s no cure. Not one in our heads. It’s physical.”

He growled. “I’m sure you still believe that this was caused by the sun flares, do you?”

My breath hitched. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sun flares? Scientists released this disease as population control.”

Ice took over my body. That meant, this disease was not meant to be cured. That meant, this was all humanity’s fault. The world was dying because of us. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t help you.” I felt like the words were coming from someone else, but no. They were coming from me, because I had no idea what to say. No idea what to tell a dying man when my focus was on saving my friends, and saving my Newt. “Maybe you’ll turn out to be Immune, too. You’re young enough.” 

He shook me. “You think I’ll turn out Immune like your precious Newt? He’s in a Simulator! It’s not real!”

I grabbed at his hand. “Maybe you can find some hope, then. He thinks he’s dying, but he’s not. Maybe you can be saved.” I glanced at the screen. “Please, let me help Newt.”

He kept his eyes fixed on me, glaring. “The Right Arm is coming to the facility,” he told me, stepping forward to crush me more forcefully against the wall. “What happens when they destroy everything?”

“We don’t have the time!” I pleaded. “Let me go!”  

He yanked out a syringe. I knew that my blood could help him, but he wasn’t asking.

He was taking, and I would not have that. Too much had been taken from me.

As he went to plunge the needle into my arm, I reached for it too, and redirected it up into his neck. He screamed when it impaled him, and he let go of me instantly. As he did, I kicked my feet under him, sending him falling backwards, into the monitor, where he hit his head.

He was out cold.

Ignoring his limp body at my feet, I rushed to the computer. I began typing on the keyboards again, and the flares on the screen shot up again, even brighter, and some of the Cranks around Newt shrank away, as if blinded. There was wind, and it brought some of the smoke to their eyes, but Newt’s face lit up. He knew that somehow, he was not alone, because I was out there, sending out flares.

“You’re here, love,” Newt breathed. “You’re here, aren't you?” He was still with a gaggle of Cranks, on the same highway that Tommy was bring driven on.

My wish.

I always wished I were there with him.

And in a way, I was.

I knew the coming events would be hard to witness, but I had to. Had to help Newt. It was almost like reading a book, when the story is hurting you so badly, but you have to keep reading, have to know what happens. “I’m here, Newt,” I breathed back.

“Nothing to fear now, eh, Jo?” His eyes shone. But then, at the sound of the van, another expression crossed his eyes. The wild look in them tore at my heart. Newt suddenly whipped around, staring murderously at a van.

The van Tommy was in.

I felt relief flow through me, knowing that Nick had gotten through. Maybe he was the simulated driver of the van. Maybe Aidan or Stephen was there, too. With Newt and Tommy so close, I knew that whatever unfolded next was out of my hands. If Peterson said the Right arm was coming, we had little time, and I had little control. With a final glance, I ran to the Simulator chamber, where I could hold Newt’s hand. This was it, I knew it. After so long, I would see him again, and he would see me.

He would be dead in the simulator. 

He would have kept his promise to Alby. He would have gotten someone else to kill him.

As I got to his bedside, the screens showed as Newt tackled Tommy to the ground, pinning him down, straddling the dark-haired boy, yelling at him as spit flew from his mouth. “I should rip your eyes out! Teach you a lesson in stupidity. Why’d you come over here? You expected a bloody hug? Huh?” He shook Tommy angrily. “A nice sit-down to talk about the good old times in the Glade?”

Tommy tried reaching for his gun.

“You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy?” 

My breath hitched. “Newt,” I whimpered, the pain of the memory tearing at my chest.

“Did I ever tell you? No, I don’t think I did.”

“What happened?” Tommy asked, wrapping his fingers around the gun.

“I tried to kill myself in the Maze,” Newt spat. “Climbed halfway up those bloody walls and jumped right off.” I winced. Newt continued, “Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed. I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all…your… _fault_!” 

Newt twisted around, grabbing Tommy’s gun hand. He pushed the barrel of the pistol to his own forehead. “Now make amends!” Newt demanded angrily, his eyes wild. “Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! Kill me! I trusted _you_ with the note! No one else. Now do it!”

Tommy tried to pull his hand, and the pistol, away. “I can’t, Newt,” he cried. Newt was too strong, and kept the gun to his head defiantly. “I can’t.”

Newt did not care. “Make amends!” His whole body was trembling. “Repent for what you did!” He landed forwards, and his voice dropped to an urgent, harsh whisper, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror. “Kill me, you shuck coward,” he said, voice like wind. “Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery.”

Tommy moaned. “Newt, maybe we can—”

Newt yanked the gun, reasserting his control. “Shut up! Just shut up! I trusted you! Now do it!

“I can’t!” Tommy reasoned frantically. 

“Do it!” 

“I can’t!”

“Kill me or I’ll kill you!” Newt swore. “Kill me! Do it!”

“Newt…”

“Do it before I become one of them!” Newt shouted, as Tommy’s hands shook. 

Tommy struggled for words. “I…”

“KILL ME!” Newt screamed, crazy, and my heart tore. 

“Newt,” I whispered into his ear. On the screen, something in his eyes cleared, as if he gained one last grasp of sanity. 

“ _Please_ , Tommy, _please_ ,” Newt begged.

Something, something subconscious probably, in Tommy remembered when I had begged him to let me save Newt. His expression was the exact same. I had asked him to save Newt, and now, here he was, a gun in hand, able to deliver.

His eyes closed against the memory-less feeling. Newt sighed softly, knowing that he would be free, and he, too, closed his eyes against that world. “Newt,” I breathed, taking his hand. On the monitor, his face relaxed, as if he heard me. Maybe he did. 

“Jo,” he breathed quietly, so quiet that Tommy could not hear. He inclined his head gently against the barrel, and he looked at peace. He looked like he did the morning after we first kissed.

I squeezed his hand as in the Simulator, Tommy pulled the trigger.

Newt’s body fell limp to the side, and that was when I turned my attention from the dead Newt on the screen to the alive Newt by my side.

Cured.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please continue to the next chapter! I would love to hear comments when you are done reading this one and the next one (and no I am not finished yet! 57 chapters as promised.)


	54. Newt's Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt wakes up.
> 
> Newt is Cured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Warning: bad puns/references :/
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been with me this whole time! Love you all!

Before he even stirred, Newt was grasping my hand. Squeezing it as if he always had been, as if he was never asleep.

I reached to unhook his tubes and headgear. As I did, my Newt opened his eyes slowly—not at all like me, I had shot up out of bed like a bullet, terrified and shocked—but he was at peace. He was calm, collected, and—as anyone who was in the Simulator would have agreed—cured.

‘Death’ had been his cure.

‘Death’ had brought him back to me, to a better place, where I could get us to a new life.

His eyes wandered in and out of focus for a while, before clearing and resting on me. Our eyes met. Finally, after so long, he looked at me, as I looked at him. No simulator, no fogginess from sedation medicine. Just him and me.

“Hello, Newt,” I whispered through my tears. I hadn’t even noticed them.

He leaned on an elbow to turn to me. “Hello, love,” he smiled softy. “Miss me did you?”

My Newt.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, overcome with emotion, and he embraced me right back. We held each other close, as if we hadn’t seen each other in years.

Well…

“Why aren't there any pearly gates, or sunbeams, or wings?” he asked, his words tickling my ear.

Oh, right. He thought he was dead.

I pulled away carefully, my eyes glistening with both mournful and joyful tears. “Newt, I have something to tell you.”

He took my hand excitedly. “We’re expecting?”

I swatted his wrist. “Newt you just woke up and you’re already making jokes? Come on, get up. We have to leave this room.”

He swung his feet over the side of the bed cautiously, and I helped him to stand. There was no curtain covering the alcove, so everything was visible. His eyes wandered around the white room, where a few of the boys were still sleeping, the ones still in the Simulator.“Wait…”

“I’ll explain once we’re out of the room, Newt, come on.” I pulled him to the door, and let him get another good look at the sleeping boys, the screens, and the computers. 

“What is that?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “Is this hell? Shuck I knew Minho would come here but not me…”

I frowned. “Newt.”

“Too soon?” he asked innocently. 

I dragged him to the room across the hall, where Teresa had taken me. A screen was playing four things at once: The Gladers, Thomas, the W.I.C.K.E.D staff, and the rebels. “I have a lot to tell you, and not a lot of time to say it, so I’ll give you the short version now and the details later. Agreed?”

He nodded. 

I sat him down on the couch, then took a seat next to him. “First off,” I began, and kissed him. Kissed him like we used to kiss, my hand on his shoulder, his hand on my cheek, our lips pressed gently together, our souls intertwined. There was love, there was relief, there was life. We were alive, we were together.

We were _together_. After so long.

After a glorious lifetime, we opened our eyes, moving apart. “I missed you.”

He pulled me close to his chest, and agreed, “I missed you too. But I never forgot you, love, not ever. Not even when I was a Crank, dying in that bloody palace. Never. You got me through that. I would even talk to you.”

I nodded against his shoulder. “I know.”

He kissed my forehead. “Alright, then, tell me. What’re those shanks in there for?”

I turned to look at his face. In his eyes. I took both his hands in mine, wanting to give him all the support he needed right now. “Newt, this will be hard to wrap your head around. This will be hard to believe. But it’s true, and I promise everything will be alright now.” He nodded, assuring his trust in me. I took a breath, squeezed his hands, and told him, my eyes wet with tears, “Newt, you’re alive. We’re alive. W.I.C.K.E.D. used a simulator for the Trials. Okay? A simulator. It wasn’t real. You don’t have the Flare, none of us do. We’re all immune. It was just a test.”

He did not move for minutes. His mind was working, then finally he spoke, slowly and carefully. “Alive? Immune?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

Frowning, he repeated, “A Simulator?”

“Yes.”

“Not a crank?”

“Nope. But, W.I.C.K.E.D. is the same. They’re going to use Tommy as the Final Candidate, do a fatal surgery to see his brain.”

His eyes widened. “When?”

“We have a bit. Any other questions?”

He tapped his leg. “Injures?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“No limp?”

“No limp.”

“Do you…do you know how I got it?”

I nodded. “I saw the promise you made Alby. After.” 

He grimaced. “That’s why…that’s why I asked Tommy to…”

“I know,” I whispered. “You kept your word, Newt. You kept your promise to him. He would have been so proud of you.”

“I made two promises that night, Jo.”  
I turned to look at his eyes. “What? No you didn’t. I was watching.”

“I made it to myself. In my head.” He tapped his temple with an index finger. “I promised that I’d do better. I promised to try harder to appreciate this life. For you. If you couldn’t live it, I would base my life on you. I’d have to fight hard and live it for both of us.”

I thought of all his struggles in the Maze, then in the Scorch, then with the Flare. He was always fighting, always trying to make it through, even when he was a Crank he was fighting.

“I wanted to help the others, like you did.” He knew how much I loved helping. That’s why I was a Med-jack. I wanted to help my friends.

“You did help them, Newt. They all loved you. They still do.” Thomas. Minho. Teresa.

“I couldn’t keep that promise though, Jo.” His eyes were wet. He looked heartbroken, but not nearly so much as the day he lost me. “I never said it out loud, and I suppose you never had to know, but I want you to. Alby said he didn’t need me to tell him. But I wanted to. And I want to tell you.”

“I’m here to listen. Always.” I took his hand in mine and searched his pleading eyes, looking for a shred of hope behind his tears. “I’ve been waiting for you for months to talk to me, to _really_ talk to me. I’ve missed you, Newt.” He was so close to me now, I could finally sit with him, and he was sitting with me too, not lost in a simulated world, asleep by my side. No, he was here, next to me on this cot, in this room. Alive.

His eyes closed a moment before opening and staring deeply into mine. “I’ve wanted to be with you, wanted to come back to you, but I also wanted to honor you. Wanted to be there for everyone, keep them together, like you were. But I didn’t. I didn’t stay with them, I let them fall apart, now look at them, Tommy’s set for a bloody death sentence, and what happens to the rest of them? I failed them. I failed you.”

“Newt, you’re the glue. You’ve been holding them together from the start.”

“The glue,” he nodded.

“The glue.” 

“You know, love,” he told me, “I may have been the glue holding them together—I don’t know, thats what they all tell me—but you, you’re the glue that’s been holding me together. After I made Alby that promise, it was your memory that gave me purpose. It was you that helped me hold onto my vow as I lost my mind. I wanted to meet you again with my promises unbroken.”

He gave a huff. “But look at me. We’re fine, now, since it was all a bloody test, but if it wasn’t…”

“But it was,” I soothed, squeezing his hand. 

“But if it wasn’t…”

“No bloody buts,” I smiled, remembering his conversation with Minho, so long ago. He gave me a small smile. However, I could still see the sorrow, the guilt, behind his eyes. I could always see beyond those eyes. “Make me another promise, Newt,” I whispered. 

“Anything.”

I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it, closed my eyes, let my cheek rest on it. “Promise that you’ll never stop loving me.” 

Slowly, he brought his other hand to my face. When I opened my eyes again, his were just inches from mine.

There, behind the brown.

It was shining. 

I saw that light in him come alive, he was glowing with it, it was beaming from his face, and floating on his breath, and dancing on his skin. 

My Newt.

He cupped my cheek in his hand, slowly bringing it closer to him, and when we were almost touching, his hand paused, letting his eyes gaze into mine with an unfaltering strength.

“I promise,” he breathed in a whisper, before gently, ever so gently, his lips met mine. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay a few points.
> 
> 1\. Hope you like! :)   
> 2\. SORRY if CH 54 and this hurt!  
> 3\. HE’S ALIVE SEE I SAVED HIM  
> 4\. Yeah I know the book/story simile…  
> 5\. Yeah I know bad puns…  
> 6\. HE’S ALIVE :D   
> 7\. See this means we needed him to die in the book. It gave him time to see Jo, so that she could be there when he woke up. This means, when we read page 250, it should no longer hurt. Because we know that on the other side, Newt wakes up and sees Jo. Hahaha.      
> 8\. THEY’RE REUNITED   
> 9\. THIS IS HIS CURE = My promise is kept.   
> 10\. “Death Cure” makes sense as a title now.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, some thoughts: If any of you do not value your life, you should. You are worth it. You have been given life and it is your responsibility to live it, and there are many people who cannot. I gave Newt another chance in here, but not everyone gets that. Just as Newt was trying to live his life for Jo, you need to live your lives because someone else somewhere cannot. Maybe someone who is watching over you, living your life WITH you, as Jo did with Newt. Think of this story as a metaphor. 
> 
> Additionally, even when you afraid of age, you should not be. As one of my favorite quotes goes, “Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many” (author unknown). Remember that. Do not think you are invaluable, and do not underestimate the gift you have. Any struggles you endure, any hardship you experience, all means that you are alive. You have been given a great gift. Do not waste it.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are welcome. (Please be nice) I love hearing any of your thoughts/emotions. Really love it.


	55. Behind Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Jo and Newt are together, awake, how will they convince Ava to allow the Immunes to go to the paradise? How will they save Tommy from a fatal surgery? Will they make it in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.

 

I wanted to stay there forever, holding him, but we had little time. “Newt,” I murmured, “we have to go.”

“Go where?” His eyes never left mine. I didn’t want them to, ever, but we needed to find Ava. 

“We have to find Ava Paige. She wants to pull Tommy out of the simulator soon, to perform the surgery. She doesn’t get it,” I shook my head. I stood and he followed, looking confused. “Newt, the surgery is to finish mapping the Killzone. They think it’s the key to the cure.”

As my words sunk in, I calculated where Ava would be. Rachel was ushering the new Immunes to the Maze, but she knew the way to the Flat Trans. With new Immunes waiting below were the previous Gladers. Janson was in his simulator room. Maybe I could just kill him…No, he had too many guards. I wound not even get past his door, let alone make it to his monitor. The other doctors in favor of the surgery, Dr. Christensen and Dr. Wright, would be there as well, under the same guards.

“We have to run.” 

 

—

 

“Chancellor Paige!” I saw her up ahead, walking to the subject room. “Wait!” I sprinted to her, past her guards, past anyone who was in my way. “Ava, please. Mapping the Killzone doesn’t matter anymore! It never did! Don’t you understand? We’re not immune because of the way our brain is structured, we’re immune because we were born with genetic mutations that enable us to survive! It’s evolution! You can’t kill us off searching for a way to fix the rest of the world. You can’t kill Tommy. Please.”

Her guards started dragging me away. I kicked, I screamed, I fought, I kept shouting at her, telling her to see sense. One of them punched me in the mouth to silence me, but I did not care. 

“If you try to take his brain,” Newt threatened from behind me, “I’ll bloody well blow a hole in it.”

Everyone stopped moving, even Ava. I turned to see why—an empty threat would have no weight—to see Newt hooding a real pistol. He must have got it from a guard. I looked at the one who punched me and saw that his holster was empty.

“You don’t think I won’t? He did what I asked, shot me in the buggin’ head. I’m not gonna stand by and let you dissect him like a lab rat.” He ambled towards Ava. “No. No, even if you try to kill me, I’ll get to him. I’ll get to him and blow out his brains and you’ll never get to map you precious blueprint.”

“Ava,” I pleaded. “Teresa’s plan. She only ever wanted to save us all. You want us to save the human race. We can, if only you sent us away. Send us through the Flat Trans, the _real_ Flat Trans. Let us start afresh.”

Her face was so pained. “How do I know you’ll continue the human race? Half of you kids want to kill each other!”

Newt took a step towards me. I wrenched out of the grip of the guards, who seemed uninterested in me all of a sudden, and took his hand. “Send us on ahead,” Newt suggested. “We’ll make sure the other Immunes start their new lives.” He was not trying to save himself. I could tell. He was being Newt, trying to save everyone, trying to keep them together. Trying to save Tommy, trying to save all his friends. Trying to be the Glue.

“Ava, we can’t help you anymore,” I told her. “You have all of the data you need, or have you been torturing us for nothing? This surgery? It’s an execution. You’re executing your most important Immune, and for what? You know the Blueprint’s pointless.” I waved my hand at my skull. “A brain is a brain. You think this is all mental? You think, that by mapping emotions, anything can be solved? The Flare is an infectious disease, Ava. It affects the body. It’s physical. We’ve mutated to be Immune.” She was faltering, I could see it in her eyes. All she needed was one last push. I remembered what Peterson had revealed to me moments before. “You of all people should understand that this disease was never meant to be cured.”

She broke. 

Shattered, really.

Just like my heart had when Newt jumped, when Newt was beaten to a pulp in the Crank Palace, when Newt begged Tommy to be shot in the head.

She just. Broke.

Her lips pressed together, her eyebrows knit, her eyes became moist. I could see her deflate, because her plan was coming to nothing. She’d lost everything. “I can’t let you go knowing that kids are the only chance for the human race.”

“Ava,” I murmured, “that’s all its ever been. Throughout history, children have been the hope of the human race. Now, that’s us.

She laughed weakly, but I could see her tears. We had won. “A few hundred kids starting new lives isn’t a chance.”

“Yes it is!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then let us be your chance,” Newt said loudly. “Jo and I, we’ll be your hope. You’re worried all those new Immune shanks’ll kill each other before they decide to settle down? We won’t. I bet you knew what love was, once, well look now. Jo and I, we’ve got it. You want insurance? Bloody hell, here we are. We’ll help Tommy, and, and Minho—”

“And shucking Gally,” I added, knowing exactly what he was thinking, “and we’ll build lives for ourselves.”

“And some day?” Newt continued, eyebrows raised, hand grasping mine tighter than ever before—not in fear, but in confidence, and support, and excitement, and love, “Some day, Madame Chancellor, or Paige, or whatever, we’ll start a family.” His voice was strong as we watched Ava begin to cry. “We’ll start a family and that will be your hope, that will be your chance for the rebirth of the human race. Repent for what you’ve done. Let Tommy go. Let the Immunes go. Let. Us. _Go_.”

With a cry, she reached around he neck and pulled out her controller, fixed on a lanyard. In a second, she’d flipped open the clear plastic safety cover, and, looking back at us, slammed her thumb down on the red button.

It was over.

 

— 

 

Red lights started blaring immediately, but there were no sirens. Didn’t want to disturb the test subjects.

She rushed away down the hall, wiping her tears, to where Thomas had been moved to, and Newt and I sprinted after her. She held the door open for us as we entered the room, where Tommy’s unconscious body had been hooked up to a wall-sized monitor screen. The image of him, in the simulated operation room, was paused. I saw the doctors in there with him, but their simulators were also paused. I knew that the real people were still sleeping, just as Tommy was. 

“Tommy-boy,” Newt whispered. I squeezed his hand, letting him know I was there for him. 

“Joan, Newt,” she said, her voice gradually becoming stronger, “I’m going to send you to the Flat Trans. You’re going to go through and wait for the others. They’ll be along shortly.” She took a breath, as if convincing herself that this was the right thing. “Teresa has already woken, as has Brenda, and they know the procedure for this last resort plan.”

“It was always Teresa’s first choice,” I corrected. “She always wanted us to go to the new start.”

Ava nodded sadly. “I should have listened to her.”

“What about Janson?” I asked sharply. “You need to keep him unconscious until we all leave. Otherwise he’ll try to interfere. You know he’s too far along, Ava. He’s desperate, not thinking straight.”

She started typing in codes to Tommy’s computer. Then, she switched to another one, a small laptop, and typed in mass codes. Instructions for the agents, codes for my friends. She pulled a radio from her jacket and called Sandra. “Dr. Walberg? It’s time for the Final Option.”

I bit my lip, sad that I could never say goodbye to Sandra. Even though she’d put me through hell, she was still an ally.

Ava continued, “Yes, yes I’ve paused the simulator. No. No, we are not. No surgery. I want all the subjects who are in the simulator to be ready to be disconnected. I’m disconnecting them, then we have three minutes—do you hear me? Three minutes exactly—until they wake up. Put them in position, make it so they never know the difference. I am sending Miss Joan and Mr. Newton to the Flat Trans, ahead of the others. Yes. Put the other Immunes down below, Rachel is down there with them. The subjects are already planning on rescuing them, do not, I repeat do not, allow them to think something is different than in the simulator.”

“Does it really matter?” I asked her.

She glanced at me sharply. “Yes, dear, because otherwise they’d be completely lost, and right now, I’m afraid we don’t have time for that. The Right Arm is waiting, and there are government officials who want to see the Maze Trials restarted. I need you all out before they arrive.” She took a manilla folder from a drawer and set it down on the table beside Tommy’s bed. She used a pen from her coat to scribble Thomas’s name across it.

“Tell her goodbye for me,” I requested, meaning Sandra.

Ava nodded, then checked her watch. “Time for you to go,” she announced. “Your rebel friends have returned, and are waiting in the real Maze.”

I started. “Nick! Gally?”

She nodded. “And Ben and Aidan. They came ahead of the Right Arm, with a flag of truce. Wanting us to surrender. Anyways, I have then downstairs, with the other Immunes. You two, wait outside. I’m going to disconnect Thomas. I’ll disconnect all of them.”

We took one more look at Tommy, then did as she asked and left the room “We did it,” I whispered. Newt wrapped his arms around me, just holding me close for a minute. Three, actually.

“Yes, love. Yes we did.”

After three minutes, the red lights suddenly shut off. Ava slipped out the door, saying as she went, “Thomas, I have faith in you.”

I heard him moaning, begin her to wait, but she gently closed the door. “Come with me,” she instructed, and led us down a series of hallways and stairs until we finally reached a white room. Inside were tables littered with scraps and mechanical parts, but up against the wall was a large white canvas. Next to it was a control box. “Under that,” she told us. Newt pulled down the canvas to reveal a silver screen. “Through there. You may want to stay out of sight at first. Might scare Thomas if he peeks through to check to see if I was telling the truth, which given our years of studies on him, I suspect he will.”

“Ava,” I began, but she held up a hand.

“No time. I’m thankful for your efforts, Joan. Newt. Both of you. You and the other Immunes. You’re my hope. Make good on that promise.”

She dealt with the control box, then shooed us to the screen. “Goodbye, Ava,” I said. 

Newt took my hand, and together we took the next step to our new life.

 

**—**

 

We walked out of a simple wooden shed. The first thing that came to my mind? Green. Lots of it.

“Only time I see this much green is when I’m lost in your eyes,” Newt muttered. 

It was paradise. 

No walls. No Grievers. No scorch, no cities, no flare. Just life, and paradise.

“Come on,” I tugged, “She said to stay out of sight.”

We walked a little ways away, hiding in the trees. We could see the shed, but no one that came out of it would see us.

We waited.

It was quiet.

I wanted to explore, but now was not the time.

“What you said back there,” I said slowly, “about a family…”

He nodded. “Yes?”

“I thought…I think it sounds real nice.”

He looked sideways at me.

I looked sideways back.

“Jo, love,” he said with a smile, “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt more hopeful than I do right now.”

I scooted in closer to him. “Well, _love_ , I’m here to make sure that hope is with you every day, for the rest of your bloody life.”

He chuckled and pulled me onto his lap. “I see it every time I look into your eyes.” I twisted around so that my face was across from his. “Ah, there it is.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine. Hie eyes, his warm brown eyes, gazed into mine. 

Hope.

That light I’d always seen, that unnamed expression behind those brown orbs, the twinkle that made my heart flutter—it was hope. That was what carried us through all the years of the Trials, when we were together, when we were apart, and now. It was hope.

 

He wrapped his arms around me, and finally, in this little paradise, our lips met, and I knew I was home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teresa’s last words: I only ever wanted…[to save everyone].
> 
> HOPE. Hehe that’s what it’s been! That was what has been behind their eyes. ;) I wanted to wait to tell you until now.


	56. I Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo and Newt have made it to the paradise. What next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
>  
> 
> Short but sweet (and not the end! One more after this, my lovelies)
> 
> Song Reference: Come to Me. Disclaimer: All rights go to Goo Goo Dolls.
> 
> Hope you like! <3

 

 

We saw Tommy when he first stepped through the Flat Trans, as Ava had predicted. Soon, all the Immunes came through including Rachel, though she was hiding her face behind a bandana, just like the other kids who had supposedly ‘died.’ At the end came Gally. Then, Minho and Tommy stumbled out. I hoped Teresa and Brenda were working the controls.

“They made it,” Newt sighed in relief. “Bloody shanks, almost have me a buggin’ heart attack. What took them so long?”

I elbowed him, gently. “Did you see Teresa?” I was getting worried now. I hadn’t seen her. 

Brenda pushed out and immediately lit the shed on fire, as Teresa had ordered on her instructions, when she finally set up the technical stuff.

“No,” I whispered, knowing what this meant. “No, no, no.” Newt held me, and together we watched the shed burn. Tommy and Brenda did, too.

Teresa was dead. Something had happened, and she was gone, despite all that she did to ensure we were safe, that we would live, she was not able to share our paradise. But I did not cry. I was sad, I was sorry, but I did not need to cry.

Why? Because we were alive. So many of us had made it. So many, including my Newt. I hugged him tightly again, glad he was alive and well. He hugged back, and was startled to find that his muscles were not nearly what they used to be. He was also not too happy about his pale skin, but I laughed and told him to not be so vain.

A few hours later, we decided it was time to show ourselves. We decided to find Tommy first. Minho was already busy, organizing the Immunes—the people—into food search parties and such.

But how to explain things….

“Newt,” I nudged. “Look. Over there.” He followed my gaze until he saw them, too. 

Tommy and Brenda. Good, Brenda could help me explain to Tommy how we were alive. I knew Gally, Nick, Aidan, and Ben were somewhere amongst the Immunes, and I hoped that they would wait to confront Minho until I was there, with Brenda, to help explain. We’d have to explain how Chuck…

I focused on Tommy and Brenda. They were sitting on the edge of a cliff, legs dangling over the ocean. It was sunset.

“Hold on a moment, love,” he said, taking my hand. “First ocean sunset I’ve seen in…”

“Forever,” I finished for him. We sat on a cliff by ourselves, arms wrapped around each other. 

“Come here, Jo. You’re my sweetest friend, and I want to enjoy this. I haven’t got to hold you for so long.”

I laid my head on his shoulder, and he laid his head on mine. I could hear his heartbeat again, like I used to when we were in the Glade. I was finally, finally with Newt, my best friend.

“This is where we start again, isn’t it? Will you forgive me for trying to jump off those walls?”

I squeezed his hand. “We both have sins, Newt. I don’t need you to worry about that anymore. I don’t want you to be sad. I love you more than that. We’ll always have our memories of the bad stuff, but I want to focus on the good. I just want to be with you, hear that lovely heartbeat.”

“It belongs to you,” he whispered, words ticking my ear.

“And mine is yours,” I vowed with emotion. “I promise.”

“I promise, too.”

We watched the waves lap against the beach off to our right, and the colorful skyline off in the distance. The sunset painted the water and sky brilliant colors, pink, red, orange, gold, purple. 

So many colors.

Behind us were trees of green, and some of the rocks below were a perfect, pure white. 

“Look,” he whispered, and I did. Above the sky, above the setting sun, the sun that marked the end of our days with W.I.C.K.E.D., different from the sun that would rise tomorrow and mark the start of our new lives, there was a star.

One hopeful star. A _real_ star. 

“That’s our star,” he told me. No constellations, no names. We were a real star now, or at least our love was represented in one. 

He took ahold of one of my hands and I squeezed his gently. 

“Our scars are gone,” he noticed. 

“Yes,” I agreed. “But we should not have to worry about forgetting each other anymore.”

“Maybe I’ll get you that ring I promised so long ago,” he mused. “How about that?”

“I’d like that.” I kissed his wrist. “I love you, Newt.”

He kissed my forehead, gently, slowly. Sweetly.

“And I love you, Jo.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

 


	57. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own TMR, all rights go to James Dashner.
> 
> Last chapter! I hope you all like it. Love you all!

 

_10 years later_

 

“Newt!” I shouted anxiously. “Newt, I need you! Hurry!” I was panicking. I was absolutely panicking, this was bad, this was really bad, this was so dangerous, and I could do nothing to help….

No, no Jo, you were not panicking. Do _not_ panic.

He sprinted into the green meadow. It was an open area, surrounded by trees, and lit up in the midday sunlight. That made it no less menacing in my eyes, at this moment.

He was by my side in an instant, the long-ago limp from the simulator nonexistent in our real life. “What, what?” 

I pointed up into the tree branches above my head. “Get her down, _now_!”

His expression of worry changed to amusement—and pride. “Oh, but look at her, she’s such a good climber! Certainly better than I was, but then again, I only had vines to work with.” 

“Newt,” I pressed, unamused with his casual reference to his suicidal attempt of climbing the Maze Walls all those years ago. “Now, please.”

“Fine, fine, killjoy. Come on down, Hope, darling.” He reached up to the branches of the apple tree—higher than my height would allow me to—and easily brought down our four-year old daughter. “How’d you get up there, hmm, Hope?” he mused.

“Minho was supposed to be watching her, the slinthead,” I huffed, my hands on my hips.

Newt bounced our blond-haired child up and down. She had his golden locks, but my green eyes, and the same shining twinkle I so often saw behind his eyes, that he claimed came from mine.

“Well he’s a slinthead,” he smirked, as if this statement was the most obvious thing in the world. “Barely keep an eye on his baby twins, you _really_ think he can watch a four-year-old?” He shook his head, and I could tell he was making a mental note to find Minho, since, after all, Minho had married Sonja, and Newt was very protective of his little sister. If she had more work to do since Minho was slacking, Minho would get a talking to.

Not that Sonja couldn’t give our friend her own lecture, because she could. They had both been leaders, and were both skilled at arguing with each other.

I huffed in annoyance. “Well, when he came up to me and said, ‘Jo, you’re exhausted, you need to rest, I’ll watch Hope and Al,’ I thought it was a good idea. I mean, this little one here,” I patted my swollen belly, “likes to tire me out.”

“Where is Alby?” he asked, looking around.

“Oh, Brenda came over, got him, took him over where Chuckie and Terrie were napping. They get along well, those three.” Brenda was busy, though, with her newborn, Ava. Many of us older girls were having babies now, though those who were younger when we came here were still not even married. Which was fine, of course. We all waited years before getting married, even Newt and I, though I wore the ring he made me for years. 

Hope started playing with Newt’s hair. I smiled at her, then stepped closer, and she turned her attention to my hair instead. It was longer, and a different color than hers, so she was more interested.

“Mummy I want your hair,” she complained with a pout.

“Oh, but my sweet girl,” I crooned, twisting her honey-colored strands around my finger, “I want _your_ hair. So pretty, so golden…you have your Daddy’s hair.”

She let go of my locks and threw her arms around Newt’s neck. “I like Dadda’s hair, too!” Newt laughed and threw her up in the air—which always made me nervous—and gave her a spin.

“That’s my little darling girl.”

He set her on his shoulders and leaned in to give me a deep kiss, giving Hope a reason to squeal in delight. “If Minho was supposed to be watching her, how’d you get out here, love?”

I shrugged. “Partly my distrust for his good intentions, partly motherly instinct, partly cravings.”I pointed to the apples on the branches above us.

“Why didn’t you get me right away, then?” He chuckled. “You know you can’t reach these branches.”

I huffed again, earning his frustratingly endearing smirk. “I could always try,” I muttered. 

He reached up easily and plucked me a shiny apple, which I immediately began devouring. “No, love, don’t want to endanger the little one in there.” He patted my little bump. 

I knew I shouldn’t be climbing trees, or trying to jump to reach the apples, but sometimes my cravings pushed sensible thoughts aside. 

“Hang on there, kiddo, aren’t you supposed to be taking a nap?” I rolled my eyes as Nick came over with his wife Arielle, their son George resting on her hip.

“Well I _was_ , till Minho let Hope up in the tree.”

Nick laughed. “Minho snuck off with Thomas and Gally ages ago. Rose’s driving Gal nuts. Hormones.” 

“I can relate,” I muttered. “Newt, watch her, ya? I’m tired.” I finished off the apple, but I was still hungry.

He kissed my forehead. “Go on, then, love, I’ll watch our little darling here, won’t I. Daddy’s turn to climb the tree!” Hope squealed in delight when Newt pulled himself up on a branch, giving her a better view of the meadow. 

I blew them each a kiss. Newt tossed me another apple with a wink, knowing one just wasn’t going to cut it, and I retreated to our home. I passed Ben on the way, fixing up a door on his house, next door to mine and Newt’s.

“Baby treating you okay, princess?” he called. 

I rubbed my bump. “Just a little hungry, s’all.”

He chucked. “Good that. Fry’s brought over some fresh bread, if you want any.”

I shook my head. “Naw. Craving some apples.” I held up the one in my hand. I had almost finished it off as well. He chuckled and got me some bread anyways, knowing all too well how my cravings got the better of me sometimes. When I was pregnant with Hope…

I shook my head, laughing at the memory. I was the first to have a baby, so none of the men really knew what to expect. Luckily, I had plenty of other women here with me, helping me with the birth, and we had plenty of medical books that I’d stored away in the years I was at the W.I.C.K.E.D. compound. Plus, Newt of course was there with me. The first time he held Hope in his arms, I knew I’d never seen anyone so happy.

I wandered through our house, into our room, and laid down on the bed with a smile. We’d made a good life here, made plenty of happy memories like that one. Newt and I had helped organize the Immunes when they first arrived. It took a while for the Gladers to wrap their heads around the idea of a Simulator, but Brenda, Nick, and I turned out to be quite good at explaining it all. And, for the most part, we all got along. Even Gally had curbed his short temper––Rose had one to match—and settled down. By now, most of us original Gladers were becoming parents, filling our lives with the happiness that our children brought us. With children, there was hope for the future, and the love we had for them ensured that that hope was always strong.

“Mind if I join you, love?” Newt’s voice asked. 

I peeked my eye open suspiciously. There he stood, leaning casually against the doorway that lead from the hall into our room. His eyes were sparkling and he wore that endearing smirk of his, arms crossed over his strong chest. I noticed that our daughter was not with him, as she so often was. I suppose she may have wanted to play with Alby. “What happened to keeping an eye on Hope?”

He laid down next to me, and I moved over to give him space. I always felt better with him sleeping beside me.“Minho’s got her,” he said reassuringly.

“Minho’s a slinthead,” I muttered, feeling drowsy all of a sudden.

“Yeah, but it gives me some more time with you.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Mm.” I turned into his chest, and he wrapped his arm around me. 

“We need to start thinking of names,” he whispered into my hair. 

Names. Baby names. 

I thought back to the note Teresa had given me so long ago, the note from my father, telling me not to take back my memories of my family. I’d never remembered their names, and sometimes I felt bad about it, but Newt was always ready with open arms when I got sad that way. Well, when I got sad any way, and I was ready to comfort him when he needed it, too.

Sometimes Nick would smile at me in some familiar way, and I knew then that I was acting like one of my parents, and that he remembered them fondly for it. I was glad he chose to remember, but he never told me I should have taken my memories back for myself. Instead, he would tell me the good times he remembered of our families, and I was happy with that. Maybe I’d even ask him for names, now.

It didn’t matter that I didn’t remember my days before the Maze Trials.

It didn’t matter that I couldn’t remember my family.

I had one of my own, with Newt, right here.

We’d kept our promise to Ava Paige. We kept our promises to each other, and as we laid there on our bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, I drifted off peacefully, knowing that despite all of our Trials, despite our nightmares and scars, we’d finally, _finally_ , found happiness, and nothing could ever take away the love that Newt and I shared, or the bonds we had with our friends.

The little one gave a kick, jolting me out of my almost-sleep.

At first, I groaned, knowing that this was about to become a constant happening now, but when I peeked my eyes open, Newt’s shining smile melted all my annoyance.

“Felt that,” he teased.

“Alright then,” I gave in, sitting up. “Now you’ve done it, gotten the little one all excited.”

He sat up with me, and I could tell from his wild grin that he knew he’d won. “Right then,” he began, hands rubbing together, eyes twinkling. “So. If it’s a girl…”

 

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Jo’s children: Hope, Alby “Al,” unborn  
> Thomas and Brenda’s children: Chuck “Chuckie,” Teresa “Terrie,” and Ava  
> Minho and Sonja: twins  
> Gally and Rose (OFC—came with the new immunes): unborn  
> Nick and Arielle (OFC—came with the new immunes. For my late cousin and his fiancée. I hope he can live on in this story, happy, and with a family): George  
> Ben and wife: newlyweds, no children yet  
> Aris and Rachel: no children yet  
> Dmitri and Miyoko: no children yet
> 
> And so ends Behind Your Eyes. I don’t mean to make this last chapter seem all about pregnancies and newborns and such, but I want to emphasize that the Gladers finally settled down, so many are choosing to have children now. And, as I mentioned, the children are their hopes. So, that is why there is so much of family in here. They are finally ready.  
> I really hope that you lovely readers have enjoyed this story. I certainly enjoyed writing it! I tried my best to stay canon with the original three TMR books, framing it with this story. I fulfilled my promise in saving Newt, along with some others, and I hope that you like the happy ending I gave (most of) them. It certainly has been an adventure, and I thank all of you who have read this all the way through! 
> 
> Until the next story.
> 
> The__Lady__Excalibur


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